Rival
by JFMSU
Summary: Gary has a moment of realization after losing to Ash as they both leave Prof. Oak's laboratory, this leads to a whole different journey for the resident douche of Pallet. A Gary-centric journey through Kanto with its own trials and tribulations.
1. Realization

**Rival**

* * *

Gary couldn't wrap his head around it. His room dark, solitary as he'd retreated for the night back into his home that he should've left by now. The start of his supposed journey put to a grinding halt.

He'd been given his pokémon as was customary for each beginner trainer, it was supposed to be the best day of his life, the challenge and partnership he'd looked forward to since he'd been in diapers.

Maybe it was the adrenaline of finally being able to battle, that had pushed him past all thoughts of reason. That _finally_ after all these years of telling Ash that he'd beat him when they were trainers would come to fruition, and it had - just not the way he had expected.

It was awkward, nothing alike what he'd seen on TV or during the times his old gramps had been battling. If you're not quick enough, don't react fast enough, you're incapable of protecting your friend, to make him dodge and try again.

And Squirtle, his partner, had tried with all he could offer to please him, performing dodge upon dodge, desperately trying to stay agile with his stumpy legs. Gary hadn't even spoken to the creature before, yet he'd followed through on every command to the best of his abilities.

The runt himself had proven _him_ , of all people, just how naive one could be.

Gnashing his teeth, thinking about it only served to infuriate him even more with how he'd been embarrassed.

He'd hesitated really, all too frequently in their surprisingly short-lived battle and his new partner had taken the brunt of his mistakes. Maybe it was stupid to beat himself up so hard after his first battle ever, but what else could he do?

His journey would be delayed yet another day, giving Ash another advantage over him.

The spherical device containing his new partner lay at his bedside table, not a speck of dirt covering it after his scuffle with his old friend. The turtle's probably still hurting, resting from his beat-down, yet..

He wanted to see him, speak to him. Tell him that he hadn't failed, that he'd been great.

Removing the pillow that he'd covered his face with, Gary Oak rises from his bed and settles himself on the comfortable rug covering the cold wooden floor. He recalls, with odd fondness, how he'd been mock-fighting with his now declared 'rival' just here as they were younger, about the topic that has been on his mind since morning.

' _You'll see, Gary! I'll beat you even if it takes a hundred times!_ '

Awkwardly digging his fingers into his brown locks, scratching away as if to have anything other to do than remember such embarrassing things, the Oak heir leans forward and swipes his new partner's spherical container from his bedside table.

It's not heavy, yet he's quite sure he'd never be able to hold the turtle with one palm like this. Weighing it, letting it leave his palm as he presses the button right in the center of it, he mimics just what he'd done this morning.

The blinding light comes out with a vengeance, harsh against his eyes this late at night, forcing him to momentarily close them when he'd so desperately wish not to. He hears what can only be described as a groan, followed by a minor _thunk_ of his partner's shell.

Dying down, the brightness evaporates in an instant, letting him observe yet again the creature he'd chosen to accompany him on this journey.

Almost half-asleep, the turtle's leaning with his hard back against the bedside table. He's tiny compared to him, yet Gary can't help but briefly shrink back as those dark purple orbs center themselves on him. Blinking as if to regain clarity, Squirtle's eyes seem to adopt a brief familiarity at the sight of him.

"How are you feeling..?" Worry etching itself into his features, he murmurs his words as quietly as he can - it's late afterall.

His new partner seem to ponder over his question, idly attempting to move his stubby arms and legs as if to make sure he can answer him truthfully. A stiff nod of his neck signifies a moment later that he'll atleast survive the beating he'd taken.

It's enough to bring a quirk to his lips despite the depressing day he'd had. "Sorry about that, by the way.." Gary rubs a hand behind his neck sheepishly, not quite used to apologizing - yet he'll do it for now. He would never wish to start this on bad terms.

Tilting his head atop a stiff neck, the elemental creature observes him in silence. Perhaps taking note of his apparent discomfort.

At this thought, the Oak heir rights his posture yet again. Looking weak wouldn't help him.

A different approach to atleast establish somewhat of a base relationship would be better than sitting in suffocating quiet. "Are you hungry?" It's the least he can offer during a time like this.

Squirtle seems to take his time with answers, craning his neck to look around as well as he can. Deep-purple eyes settle on him eventually, offering up a terse nod.

Gary allows yet another brief quirk of his lips, "Berries alright?"

The question seem to bring some much needed life into the tiny turtle's gaze, looking at him with renewed interest at his offering. Still injured, the creature attempts to push himself forward with newfound purpose. Hesitance set aside for hunger.

Gary halts him with his hand, however. The turtle blinks slowly, halting his progress forward. Crawling forward himself instead, carefully maneuvering his hands as if to avoid the injured areas his gramps had informed him of, the boy lifts up the turtle with little difficulty.

The beds close vicinity means that he'll only need to carry the injured creature for barely a few seconds. He's ten years old yet he doesn't drop the Squirtle uncerimoniously on his bed, taking as much time as he can to handle this with care.

Puzzled, yet not unaware of what's happening, his Squirtle accepts the brief pat of his head before Gary disappears off in search of any berries they might have at home.

He returns only a minute later, finding his newfound companion sitting just where he'd left him, waiting patiently. Dark purple settles on the small container he carries with him as he nears, hunger made clearly visible.

"Here." Not bothering with making some fancy introduction, the Oak heir rips the lid off the container, pushing his offered fresh bitter berries forward as he settles himself on his own bed yet again.

There's no hesitance left as the turtle would've most likely dived right at the container if he'd not been bruised and battered. Still, he pushes himself forward and grabs onto it with stubby arms, clumsily digging into it until he recieves a handful in his small palm. Indulging on the berries happily, not minding the all too bitter taste.

It's almost surreal, and no amount of pinching his legs seem to wake him up.

This is the creature he'll have to look after now. Train, feed, and everything else that's necessary. Gary can't help but feel abit overwhelmed, despite all. Sure, he's been amongst these elemental creatures for most of his life, but..

He's never had to take care of anything, he's never had anyone else depend on him.

Now, he does. And he'd failed miserably so far, not only by getting his friend hurt within moments of choosing him back at the laboratory, but by underestimating his own abilities to have restraint.

He's sure Ash had been reading, working and even practicing with his mom's own companions weeks before today. He'd been eager, ready - so unlike him.

And the results of today had proven just that. He was unprepared, no wonder his gramps had offered to hire a driver to accompany him during the whole thing.

How would he even have trained as he'd been driven to and from the different citys Kanto has to offer? Shaking his head, Gary can't help but feel inadequate compared to others his age.

A push against his leg serves to bring him out of his post-defeat thoughts, the plastic container empty as it's offered up to him yet again. When he doesn't take it, his turtle pays no mind and shortly drops it onto his lap - pushing itself forward just abit as the Squirtle settles himself just short of Gary's legs.

It stares, dark purple adopting a more concerned outlook on life compared to the indifferent one it'd had earlier. He meets it unflinchingly, "Do you want more?"

A shake of its head, negative.

"Are you tired?"

Another shake.

Heaving a great sigh, Gary accepts the stubborness of his newfound companion, removing the empty plastic container from his lap and dumping it on his bedside table. Leaning forward, he grips the turtle under it's arms. There's no complaints as he lifts his Squirtle up, settling the creature he'd failed earlier today in his lap.

The hard shell's uncomfortable against his pyjamas, but he pays no mind to it. He rests his chin tiredly atop the dome that's the turtle's head - exhaling through his nose as he's finished, tired from heavy lifting.

"..Do you think I'll be a good trainer?" He's not even sure why he's asking, it'll probably make things worse with how weak he'll come off as. But he's never had the chance to speak of his insecurities out loud like this.

The Squirtle remains quiet, he never expected a response.

Perhaps it's stupid to even think it'll help by speaking out loud. But, he can't stop himself with how easily everything slips out.

"I'll try to be, _atleast_ -" Gary cuts himself off, feeling the burning sensation of petty tears for a brief moment, but he stomps it down. Maybe that match had been just a _tiny_ bit important to him.

He's not even sure how his partner can handle remaining still for so long, even when he buries his face into the turtle's dome as he takes a ragged breath - attempting to calm himself down.

"I'll repay you for today, whenever I can." He's an Oak, he'll keep his promise.

At this, Squirtle responds in kind with his quiet grunt, affirmative. It's enough to bring yet another quirk to his lips.

Maybe losing wasn't so bad in hindsight.

* * *

"Are you absolutely certain you'd wish to do this without your driver?" His grandpa has always been a worried man, and Gary's quite sure he's never seen him look this serious when it comes to something that isn't battling or research.

Finishing up packing his backpack had taken some more thought then he'd expected, and it certainly wasn't light. Readjusting the strap of his pack, Gary turned to face his grandpa who looked like he'd aged all too quickly the past hour. "I'll be fine, gramps. I just figured I wouldn't get as much training in with a driver, that's all." The other Oak's eyesbrows rise briefly, surprised for a fleeting moment.

It wasn't a lie, he would prefer the solitude it'd offer with his new companion. It would give him the same experience as everyone has as they start out, the same chances as anyone. There's a certain thrill to it, that's for sure, to be out there and training, walking onto the path his old geezer had done long before he'd been born. With his own rivals, his own goals.

Gary really couldn't help but admire the old man, even if he didn't verbally admit it.

A great sigh is heaved by the weary professor, looking quite resigned to his grandsons choice. "Very well, then. I'll make sure to call him as soon as you leave."

"I'll be careful, don't worry.." Gary's unsure just who he's trying reassure, but it seems to have a sobering effect on the both of them. Quirking his lips up into a brief smile, the Oak heir lazily offers up a hand in a half-hearted wave, ready and willing to make his way out the door-

"-I hope you know that I'm proud of you, Gary."

His hand rests on the handle, the last obstacle between him and his delayed adventure. Peering over his shoulder, he locks eyes with one of the last relatives he has left. Waiting.

"And I'm sure your parents would have felt the same." Ah, so that's it. There's a certain bittersweet feeling when it comes to this subject, he doesn't remember them, really. Perhaps that's why the message doesn't hit has hard as it should, but he shakes his head, confusing his senior in the Oak family.

"Save it, gramps." There's shock written over his beloved grandpa's features, and it tugs at his heart to know that he might've potentially hurt him, but it needs to be done. He doesn't deserve it just yet.

"I'll make you proud." He'll walk the same path as the old researcher did in his glory days. "So save it, I'll earn it." And he'll do it better.

A brief, sensible chuckle escapes his gramps, looking quite pleased despite all. "In due time, then." He walks forward, patting his shoulder once with pride evident in his features. "Go on now, you have a whole journey ahead of you. Just remember to-"

"Call if anything happens, I know gramps." He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, readjusting the straps of his backpack absentmindedly. There wouldn't be room for error, back-tracking if he'd lost something was out of the question.

Samuel Oak squeezes his shoulder one last time for good measure, ushering him off towards the Oak familys front door eventually. "Take care, hrm?" Gary can almost see just how his gramp's cheerful façade crumbles at his last words, the low timber of his voice portraying just how wrong it must feel to be left alone.

It's almost enough for him to think second thoughts, but he represses it, pushing it further into the back of his head.

He's ready. They're ready.

"I'll smell ya' later." Gary announces, turning the handle as he ventures forth into the world he's itching to explore.

* * *

Gary Oak already felt tired, his legs aching. The heavy pack he'd thoughtfully put together almost weighing more than he could muster for these kinds of treks. Admittedly he'd put some impressive distance between himself and the tall grass obscuring Pallet Town from the rest of Kanto, but it's been draining.

Perhaps he'd been over-thinking what would be required for this adventure he'd taken upon himself. Gary couldn't say he felt the experience has so-far lived up to the hype he'd had his entire life, but it's certainly refreshing.

Sure, following his gramps on his numerous expeditions and habitual research had gotten him used to the lifestyle of sleeping outside, but it hadn't prepared him for the wave of creatures he's seen so far. The old geezer had always been too protective.

Spearow, Pidgey and Caterpie. Not the most diverse selection of creatures one could come across here in Kanto, but each sight left him with the lingering itch of finally being able to battle yet again. He'd been given what each kid and their mother knows as 'pokéballs' during his initial visit to his gramps laboratory, five of them to be exact.

Forming his lips into a quick and easy grin despite himself, he remembers thinking if it'd be enough. Five being more than enough was one of his quickest realisations, to be fair. If he'd won against Ash, Gary was quite sure he would've been trying to catch everything that he came across.

The need to win, to capture, would over-shadow his newfound albiet awkward appreciation of taking care of a creature. Gary almost finds himself stumbling over a girthy tree-root, recalling with severe distaste just how his gramps had been forced to mend his hard-shelled friend's injuries with haste and care rivaling the famous Nurse Joys.

Idly tracing the tips of his fingers against the spherical device containing said turtle, he's reassured by the cool quality it possesses. That his partner was fully healed and ready to embark with him was something that had left him with immense relief as he'd heard the news this morning.

Speaking of his Squirtle, he's been itching to release his friend. Their late-night conversation, or lack thereof, had left his mind swirling with different thoughts and possibilities.

Firstly, he really should let his partner outside of his container more often. Communication was key, as gramps had always told him. It would give them both a better chance to get used to eachother other than that terrible battle.

Secondly, training. It was both a familiar and foreign concept to him.

It must be quite an oddity with how he'd never actually seen anyone 'train' their companions. He's aware that they do, he's just never seen anyone besides his old gramps when he'd been much, much younger.

The pokédex he'd been handed revealed very little in regards of how to actually train a Squirtle. He'd read up on the species, and only that particular one, as he'd been slowly started making his way into the thick forest that was Route 1.

Watergun, Withdraw and Bubblebeam. It's all familiar words to the Oak heir yet he cannot even begin to make sense of how to actually incorporate these moves into training. He'd actually need to, and Arceus forbid, _ask_ his hard-shelled friend for advice.

It shouldn't be too hard, and perhaps he'll come off as the most incapable trainer this little creature has ever come across, but it'd be easier in the long run if he wasn't just spouting out nonsense to his new partner.

With a resigned sigh, Gary Oak runs his fingertips over the cool metal that makes up the top-portion of his Squirtles pokéball yet again. Unhooking the spherical device from his trainer-belt with some minor difficulty, he holds onto it tightly as he pushes himself past a particularily nasty bush. Paranoia kicking in.

Gary feels just how the thorny branches prick his skin, yet he ventures onward, clutching onto his friend's container as if it were his life - not wishing for it get lost within the greenery. It's a safety precaution, really, he'd never wish for the pokéball to get unhooked and disappear within the mess of brown-ish green.

Finally finding his way, Gary soldiers on through the last thorny branches, the prick of his cheeks and exposed hands only mildly-annoying. Forcefully pushing forward as he nears the end, the boy finds himself haphazardly thewn across the endless grass on the other side.

Excerting some effort to push himself up, grunting at the weight of his pack, brushing off the thorns he'd been pricked with, he finds his gaze locked at the scene before him.

Mesmerized.

From the lush greenery and colourful bushes, to the clear-blue yet beautifully still pond before him, the Oak heir finds himself lost in his thoughts.

It's perfect, the easily accessable water needed for his new partners training, with the looming trees covering the harsh sun of Kanto's summer to leave them both in peace. It's with pure wonder in his eyes that he makes his most important decision to-date.

This..

This is where he'd set his camp for the night and coming day. And they would train, they would train until he were satisfied. Until _they_ were satisfied. He'd study, ask for advice, heed it and perfect it until he was exhausted beyond belief.

There would be no shortcuts, skipping because they were to tired or too lazy. If his goal was to go beyond what his old geezer had done, he'd better start strong right now.

The spherical device still clutched tightly, Gary Oak pushes his index finger against the release mechanism. Its blindingly strong light erupting with a vengeance even during a mid-day Kanto summer, and he shields himself for just the briefest of moments.

He's met with a more confident cry of his chosen partner this time, strong for his size compared to meek and tired one he'd heard last night. It's enough to leave him with a big grin upon his features even before he's able to see the turtle.

Standing strong with his two stumpy legs, his companion meets his own gaze unflinchingly with more weight than he had presumed. "Mornin'," Gary greets kindly, his expression soon adopts a more thoughtful look. "Feeling better?" It's better to know even if he'd been given good news by his gramps earlier today.

His partner cranes his stiff neck, confined to the shell that's been hardened since birth, looking around the clearing they had found themselves stumbling upon. Dark purple eventually finds his trainer again, seeing as there's no battle to be had, and allows a more childish light to enter its eyes. Nodding once with a relaxed grunt.

It leaves him with the same irritating itch to battle.

"Great!" Gary Oak flashes a quick quirk of his lips, pausing as he hauls the heavy load he'd carried so far off his back. With a relieved sigh, he stretches. "Go swim," He gestures to the pond behind the Squirtle with a free hand. "We'll be training come afternoon, so if you'd like to relax before that-"

With a sprint that should not be possible with such stumpy legs, his partner's already taken off towards the clear pond. A splash signifying the turtle's joy.

Heaving a great sigh that rivals his old geezer, Gary Oak can't help but feel like he'll age all too quickly with this one. "Don't stray too far!" He warns, recieving a loud cry in return as affirmative.

It's unlike him to worry further, so he decides to busy himself with setting up their camp for the coming days. They'll have to restock in Viridian, but it'll be worth it, who knows if they'll find something like this again so soon?

With the happy cries of his new partner heard throughout the clearing, Gary Oak finds himself preparing camp with renewed vigor.

Who knows? Maybe he'll even get a chance to study if he finish abit earlier.

* * *

"Again," He won't accept anything other than their goal for today. "Just a few more then you can rest, eh?"

Watergun, a relatively simple yet effective move to aquire early on for the Squirtle line. It builds the foundation for both a Wartortle and Blastioise, It's an essential part, perhaps not as early on, but with time it becomes a crucial skill to have aquired to further progress into moves such as Hydro Pump and even Hydro Cannon.

They've been at it for the past hours, a rock threwn towards the pond nearby, its jagged surface hit effectively with a highly-pressurized spear of water. Again, and again.

He's been stockpiling between breaks, studying his pokédex as he's clumsily walking around and picking rocks suited for his companion's accuracy training. Perhaps it's not as effective as he'd have liked it to be, but there's not much he can do right now without over-exerting his friend.

Constantly reminding himself that his partner's young, untrained - that he needs restraint with his desired training. But the Oak heir can't help but feel that the brief progress on a larger scale that they're achieving right now, is special in a way.

They are both laying the foundation of their future. Training, battling and resting - he wouldn't have it any other way.

And Squirtle's doing excellent so far, in Garys opinion. They started at a mere two out of five hits, yet during these hours, they've managed to get a steady set of four out of fives.

His gaze scans over the pokédex practically glued to his fingers, mulling over his choices so far.

Accuracy, and finesse - are more valuable early on than pure power. Sure, he's made the argument himself that with power you could crush through your competition without fail. Yet, he's read enough, studied enough, even during this brief time to know that it's best to get the basics down within the first weeks.

If you can't hit, it doesn't matter if it's powerful enough.

The Oak heirs brown gaze locks with the last rock he's thrown, and he can't help but shiver as a spear of pressurized water connects with it. Sending it flying at a frightening speed out of his sight.

Five out of five, progress.

Quirking his lips up into his usual smile, Gary offers a 'thumbs-up' towards the pond. Marginally smaller, stumpier, a light-blue fist rises from the water and mirrors him.

And he feels at home.

"That's enough spitting water! Lets take a break," he hollers, recieving an affirmative in return from his companion. Floating up, Squirtle lazily swims towards the edge of 'their' pond. Waddling himself over, slower as he is on land, the turtle settles himself by camp. Warmth of the fire started up swiftly evaporating any excess water his friend's dragged with him.

Quietly going about sorting out his backpack without stress now that there's time, Gary dexteriously digs into the pack's back-pocket and offers up the berries he'd found on their way here. A reward for good work.

"Getting a hang of it?" He inquries, genuinely curious about how his partner's taken to todays training. It's more out of concern if it's too easy or too hard, they need to change things up if it's either in his opinion.

Preoccupied with his given treat, Squirtle only half-heartedly nods along with whatever his trainer had said - clearly focused on the task at hand. It's not enough to give Gary a solid insight on what's working and what isn't but since there's no complaints, he can only hope it's good enough.

It's his first day out on the field, worry and stress came to everyone he imagined. Positivity regarding another creature's still a foreign concept yet he can't help but feel he's doing 'okay' so far.

His partner doesn't hate him so he must be doing something right atleast.

"We're going to take a break with the accuracy training for a few hours." He announces. It's enough to catch his hard-shelled companions attention for the moment, berries consumed. "I'd like to focus on something simpler, but equally as effective." Recieving a brief, yet puzzled nod from Squirtle, Gary can tell that he's atleast somewhat focused on training.

"Withdraw." Recognition shines in his companions dark purple gaze. As if to demonstrate his knowledge, the tiny turtle withdraws his head partially into his shell.

Laughter bubbles up with ease. "Yes, like that!"

Squirtle nods as well as he can with his head barely visible inside of his shell, coming out of it however, he immediately starts to attempt getting up on his stumpy legs.

Adopting a frown upon his features, Gary watches with some fascination as his partner finally succeeds. A look of determination is what meets his gaze as the turtle fully rises.

Ready.

"Breaks over, huh?" He quips, that familiar itch for battling back in full force.

The smaller creatures determination does not waver with his words, nodding along stiffly.

It's easy to get lost in all of the specifics of being trainer, he's come to realise. But he'll gladly navigate through the endless sea that's ahead of them, as long as he's got the same determined turtle by his side.

"Let's get started then, shorty."

* * *

The cries of the local Pidgey and Spearow herds dominate the early morning training, yet it's barely enough to contain the commands yelled rapid-fire.

"Watergun!" The jagged surface leaves his palm more fluently than yesterday, connecting smoothly with an accurate spear of liquid.

"Withdraw!" This wasn't his idea at first, but it certainly offered something in terms of actual combat to their training. Yet another jagged surface leaving his palm fluently as it heads right towards the turtle's center.

A jump, a spin, and the turtle deflects the rock with ease.

It's been a few hours since they've both risen, most of them spent like this. It was initially a worry for the Oak heir that he'd eventually either run out of rocks or ricochet them to hit himself, but miraculously he'd managed to avoid both.

He takes note of just how hard the little turtle is breathing, his endurance having its limits tested with each rock now that it has been this long. It's a thought for worry, yet he's wise enough to throw in compliments to egg his partner on - just to dodge a few more or hit a few more.

And it works beautifully.

"Alright, last one!" And he really does mean it this time. Determination seizes his partners features yet again, dark purple scanning any type of movement he'd make.

Flinging the rock like he's done all morning, a spear of water meets it accurately barely two meters from where it'd started.

And he's amazed by the progress.

It's minor, maybe even _nothing_ compared to beastial creatures he'd seen his old geezer wield with ease, but it's _his_ friend.

So he cheers, he cheers as if they'd won something great. Because it's a victory all the same to the both of them.

"Nice one!" He hollers over, a big grin present upon his features and the turtle tiredly mimics him with a cry of his own.

Gesturing his friend forth, calling that practice is over for today since they really do need to progress beyond Route 1 at some point, Gary Oak prepares himself for cleaning up their camp. And with a boundless energy coming from such a young creature, Squirtle happily helps even as he's exhausted beyond belief.

Putting out the campfire they'd started, cleaning up all the rocks Gary can find, making sure he has not lost anything important amidst the endless grass surrounding their pond - he can't help but smile as they continue to work in peace.

It's with renewed vigor at the thought of finally progressing that drives him to clean up faster than he has too. The Oak heir stretches as Squirtle finishes returning a few of their rocks to the bottom of the pond, surveying over the area he'd gotten familiar with over the past day.

"We'll return someday, right bud?" He questions out loud, perhaps even rhetorically. It's easy to get lost with all of these small steps forward they've made together, to merely continue to sit here, throw rocks and grin as his partner goes above and beyond to better himself would be bliss.

An affirmative in form of a grunt pushes Gary's thoughts into the back of his mind, offering up a quick quirk of his lips to his shorter friend.

"It'll probably be awhile, so don't whine on me, yah?" It's scarily enough quite familiar with how his partner rolls his eyes at his words. A thought for another day perhaps.

All packed up, the backpacks unfamiliar weight upon his shoulders, Gary Oak watches his chosen partner now that they're done. Dark purple remains focused on the clear, beautifully still pond they're leaving behind. A quiet, meek cry leaves his friend - and he understands.

"I'll miss it, too." He offers, and the little creature slowly looks up and over at his features. A small, understanding smile plasters itself upon his lips, nodding over his shoulder - a signal that they should leave.

"Let's get going, shorty."

He starts, taking his first steps towards the opposite side he found himself threwn out of and Gary feels his jeans tugged at the calf.

Quirking his brow, turning his frame so he can look down at his travelling companion with more ease, he awaits whatever the little creature would want.

Standing there, stumpy legged and stumpy armed, the latter outstretched up towards him - Squirtle awaits.

It's puzzling at first, yet when an insistant dark purple finds his brown, he looks down as if the little turtle had lost his mind at first. It doesn't shy the turtle away in the slightest.

He'll really need to rest when they arrive in Viridian, or he'll actually rival his old geezer in things other than battling in a few years if this becomes frequent.

Heaving a great sigh that rivals his old man even now, Gary Oak squats down and lifts the somewhat heavy turtle up. "This is the first, and last time, alright?"

A happy cry does nothing to ease his future back pain. He can't blame him however, he'd probably be equally as lazy.

It's a long way to Viridian, though.

* * *

He'd already set the turtle down barely twenty minutes into their trek towards Viridian City, his back having made it protests at the very unexpected load early on. It had eased up as they'd now been travelling for a few hours, the occassional stop as they'd spot a particularily feisty Rattata that'd stubbornly attempt to block their path.

It was a battle won, and he'd looked on with some faint amusement as the Rattata's herd scurried over and dragged their unconcious friend back into the bushes they'd made their entrance from.

Wasn't a memorable battle in the sense that it had barely lasted for more than a minute or two, but it was their first that hadn't resulted in a loss - even if it had been against a wild Rattata.

With the fresh muscle-memory of performing Withdraw upon Withdraw, spitting spears of water for hours, Squirtle had barely struggled even once. You could also play into the fact that starter Pokémon were essentially bred to be battling, to help trainers defend themselves against the initial wild threats that you'd face.

A Rattata was nothing compared to what he'd faced against Ash, even now he's unsure if he'd be able to triumph over his rival with how hard they had trained.

Scratching away at his brown locks, absentmindedly paying attention to where he sets his feet upon the dirt trail they'd managed to stumble upon earlier, Gary finds himself thinking over just how much of a difference a single day could mean this early on.

He doesn't regret his loss, not really. But it's tough to soldier on when he needs to both push and pull to make up for whatever advantage his old friend might have.

Yet..

His partner's young, they both are - perhaps it's stupid to even ponder over what a mere day would be on the grander scale of their whole journey.

It makes him feel foolish, naive, just like a kid his age should feel as they undertake something as grand as a trainer journey. Trial and error, his gramps had told him.

He's starting to get a taste of that right now, especially the mental kind. Maybe it's just the residual bitter feelings of a loss he could've avoided, but it's unfair.

Both to Squirtle and him.

"Hey, bud?" Gary can't help himself, fingertips itching.

Squirtle cranes his stiff neck upwards as he awkwardly trails along beside the Oak heir on stumpy legs, observing with a curious expression upon his features.

"What do you say about staying for a few more days? Get some trainin' in?" Gary'll stick by his word to his gramps. If he has got a whole day to catch up on, they will just have to commit harder to their training. Perfect what they can, what they know.

He could survive on berries for a day if he ran out of supplies, it'd be worth it though.

The Pokédex is already glued to his hand as it is, spending a whole day trekking along this awfully boring dirt trail wouldn't suit them. Atleast in his opinion.

The tiny turtle seems to ponder over his inquiry, dark purple latching onto whatever greenery ahead of them as he processes it. It doesn't take long, however, as Gary finds his brown meeting a confident purple not more than half a minute later.

A decisive nod, a cry of confirmation.

It does nothing to ease the itch of his fingertips as he rapidly taps each of them against his partners container. A big, wide grin appears and he laughs.

"Great!" It's mirrored by the creature next to him, "I think we can find a good spot to camp for the night if we just hurry along."

He starts with a sprint, grinning wide as he looks back at the stumpy turtle. "Come on, shorty! Trainin' starts now!"

It's with yet another roar of determination that Squirtle picks up his pace, stumbling along with his trainer.

* * *

The crisp, cool night of a Kanto summer envelopes the duo as they start to near their end-goal for the past week. The dim street-lights of Viridian illuminating the prosperous city above the treeline for both of them to see.

It's a much needed breather from their couple of hectic, yet fulfilling days they've now put behind them. Endurance, precision and power - Gary had poured over all he could find on the Squirtle line and their limitations as they'd progressed. With more time to absorb the knowledge, he'd found new ways to train that doesn't involve throwing rocks at the creature.

Admittedly, it had been an effective training method but he'd been at a loss how to fully grasp the concept of training at the time. Now, he's still quite puzzled over the whole thing but it feels like they both have achieved a firmer grip on the concept these past couple of days.

Bubblebeam, perfecting Withdraw into something that could within a reasonable amount of time become Rapid Spin aswell as Skull Bash, had been a few of many goals they had set. Not many of them had been met, if any at all, but it was enough to give both a taste of what each day would hold in the future.

Gary feels exhausted, but in a good way.

"We're nearing Viridian, bud." He announces, his usual quirk of lips present. "Wanna rest up? We'll visit the Pokémon Center right away." A bed was something he looked forward to, while tree-trunks could be comfy in their own right, it didn't hold a candle to the real thing.

And his back still hurt.

The Squirtle could probably care less about visiting a Pokémon Center, though at the slump in the creatures stance you could tell exhaustion was pestering his young, untrained frame. A nod being the only agreement he gets out of the turtle.

"I'll see you tomorrow, alright? Get some rest, you earned it." They both adopt a tired grin, Gary yawning after as he unhooks his friends container from his trainer-belt.

With a bright, harsh flash of white - his partner's safely stored within his Pokéball.

He's quite exhausted himself, especially with the load he'd been lugging around on his back all this time. It was worth it to be overly meticulous about what he'd need and not while packing Gary's come to realise. The extra food had helped them both with going through with as much training as they could fit in, even if he'd have to throw in a picky lunch of berries and juice once in awhile.

The city-lights of Viridian's not far off now, as he can make out the taller buildings and apartment complexes present in the city closest to the Victory Road of Kanto.

Gary's quite sure that his next destination is just _that_. Not the road itself but the route surrounding it - his old geezer had recommended it.

He'll just have to take his gramps word for it, even if he might just be in over his head with visiting such a route. It's rumored to contain Pokémon that'd rival above-average trained creatures, and that's something to be excited for.

Not that they would have even a slight chance to beat a creature like that, but he'd hope to snatch up a recently hatched or young one. A suitable sparring partner for Squirtle, and hopefully to start filling up the empty slots in his trainer-belt.

Pavement meets with his sneakers expectedly, stumbling out of thoughts as he finds himself following the paved trail into the heart of Viridian.

Gary knows the city almost as well as the small town he'd been brought up in, mostly thanks to his gramps active work and the partnership with the different Item-marts located all over.

It's the closest thing to such stores you'd get, Pallet didn't have any despite hosting the regions most renowned expert. Speaking of shopping, he _really_ needed to restock tomorrow. Food mostly, and perhaps some Potions if they had some in stock.

Gary kicks at the pebbles cluttering the paved road he's following, each bounce echoing harshly in the quiet of the night. He's not seen more than a handful of other people since he'd gotten to the edge of the city - yet he's pretty sure most sane individuals would be sleeping at this hour.

Unfortunately, he's still got another stop for today before he can sleep.

Gary takes a good half-hour to reach his destination, navigating purely on past memory to locate it in his exhausted state. It works, mainly because it's a terribly large and illuminated building.

The swish of the glass doors sliding open allows the pleasant temperature of the Pokémon Center to wash over the Oak heir, and he allows himself a sigh of relief. It's empty, save for the pink-haired woman lazily turning the page of a magazine at the counter. At his entrance, Nurse Joy perks up, marking whatever page she'd been at and stashing it away under the counter.

"Welcome to Viridian City's Pokémon Center!" Words spoken with a bright smile, full of life despite the time of day. "How may I help you?" Her expressive eyes full of questions unsaid as to what a ten year-old would be doing out at this hour.

It's with yet another sigh of relief that he unloads the heavy pack he'd carried around for several hours, uncerimoniously dumping it on the tiled floor below, flashing her a tired grin. "A room, whatever's left. And uhh-" He has to stop and ponder for just a few more seconds through the haze of exhaustion as to what his second errand was.

Gary blinks once, recollecting himself. Right, Squirtle.

He unhooks his partners container with practiced ease, handing it over the counter. "He's exhausted, figured he could use some rest after the week we've had."

Nurse Joy nods understandingly, though pausing after a few seconds after she'd thoughtfully put the spherical container on a tray fit for six. A Chansey collects it soon enough, carrying it off through the double-doors behind. "Name?" She inquires, eyes glued to the computer in front.

"Gary Oak."

If she's surprised by his name, it doesn't show. "Well, Mr. Oak - your Squirtle should be as good as new tomorrow." Though a small smile does tinge her features momentarily. He merely stares, dumbfounded.

"How did you-" He's cut off immediately.

"The professor has already registered you in our database, very thoughtful of him I must say." Oh.

He scratches his brown locks in slight embarrassment. However, his attention doesn't trail off for long as she continues. "Also, I regret to inform you that the Viridian Gym has been through some reconstructive efforts as of late." He recalls overhearing his gramps talking about it a few weeks ago. It's still going on? "I'm required to inform every trainer that passes through these doors, as I know some have travelled here for just _that_. We apologize for any inconvinece this might have brought with it." It sounds awfully rehearsed, but he gets it.

He hadn't even thought about visiting a Gym yet, to be completely honest. "Oh." He's not quite at that level. "Thanks for the heads up." It's best to just be polite about it.

An apologetic smile meets his awkward one, it disappears as she reaches over to her right where he can see several keycards upon a cedar-esque wall, numbers below. "Room 12, just down the hall." A more maternal smile appears upon her features, leaning over the counter as she points down said hall to his right.

The Oak heir nods, offering up his thanks with a brief smile as he accepts the keycard. Squatting down to put his back through one final stretch of torture, he rises with some difficulty.

It's with clear sympathy that Nurse Joy speaks up, somewhat concerned. "Should I ask Chansey to carry it for you, Mr. Oak?"

He shakes his head, waving her concerns off with a free hand. "No- no, I'll be fine." If it wasn't through sheer will, his legs would be shaking.

Shaking her head, finding it somewhat humorous as she politely covers up her amused smile. He'd imagine he makes for a sorry sight.

"Rest well!" She calls after him, and he waves back over his head.

A bed awaited him, and even better,

Sleep.

* * *

 **Merely dumping this here to see if there's interest/gain some much needed motivation.**


	2. Furious Red

**Rival**

* * *

"Don't look at me like that, we won't be out here for a week."

Squirtle doesn't look entirely convinced, given their previous spree of training. Gary rolls his eyes, "We're not going to be some social outcasts livin' in the wild for weeks at a time, bud." Atleast if it continues like this they won't. Gary could see the benefits though..

A thought for a later date.

The daunting heat of a early summer morning beats down on them as they're nearing the edge of Viridian, the bustling sounds of a busy city replaced with the chattering of multiple pidgey and spearow flocks that's present just about everywhere in Kanto.

A welcome change as he'd grown up in the quiet town of Pallet, it's somewhat expected to prefer the peace and quiet the wild usually offers. And Victory Road has plenty of what he's looking for right now.

The unfamiliar roars of creatures unseen keeps Gary on-edge as they near, he still remembers what the old geezer told him about this route.

Rhyhorn with hides so thick you'd think they wouldn't even feel the pressure of a Hyper Beam, machokes with decades of experience that could just look at you the wrong way and break your legs. Even onix that were old enough to rival the most ancient of rhydon.

It left him reeling, but it also fueled his thoughts into something not many sane newbie trainers would dare do.

He'd venture forth into the unknown with only Squirtle as his companion. Not that Gary had much choice in that department, but he's still sane enough to not travel too deeply into such a dangerous route.

It's his best chance to aquire a new teammate before he'd start yet another training spree. Working them down to the bone until he were confident enough to not worry about failure as he'd reach Pewter City.

Renowned for his defensive capabilities, the Pewter gym-leader isn't one to underestimate by any means. It's crucial that he atleast gets one more slot filled on his trainer-belt before he returns back to the Pokémon Center in Viridian.

Forgoing a more open and safe way of navigation when it comes to this usually isn't the more logical, sane choice for a trainer such as himself. However, It's how you usually get results when it comes to catching glimpses of wild creatures. He has learned from the best when he'd been dragged along on his gramps numerous habitual research programs.

And that's how Gary finds himself, just shy of an hour or two walk away from Viridian, crouched down in a pair of flourishing bushes, trying to hide from what the Oak heir had originally so desperately followed. He had been very clear with his partner that any noise, however brief or low could startle whatever they're approaching. It was with enthusiastic puzzlement that the tiny turtle agreed, and he'd kept shut, recognizing the danger they're in.

Gary follows the more frequent shrieks of battle the deeper they ventured into the ancient Victory Road, clashes of beastial giants when it comes to defending territory they consider as theirs.

It's glorious, frightening and nothing like he'd ever seen. Enough to chill him to his very core yet he can't for the life of him tear his gaze off what he's witnessing as he finds his answer.

Predator versus Protector, Agility versus Strength. With a wingspan that would strike fear into any soul, the mighty pidgeot swerves gracefully around tree-like obstacles. Left-wing shining grey with lethal intent as the apex predator of Kanto tucks its right wing flat, driving close to its unlucky foe—

The ground crumbles beneath the machoke, his heels digging deep into the soil as it, with lightning speed, grapples the iron wing with strength many could only dream of. There's a shrill shriek, Protector remaining still as the apex predator of Kanto furiously attempts to claw its way free. Its steel wing effectively neutralized, helpless within the range of the brute.

Gust after gust, wind picking up to a frightening pace, Gary reaffirms his hold on the tiny turtle he'd brought with him, looking back at the scene before him with renewed skepticism over their chances of becoming possible collateral damage. They're not close enough to catch a glancing blow, yet the ground quakes beneath him with each trunk connecting with solid earth - several trees not able to stand firm against the force of the machoke blocking each strike of bird talons. _Air Slash —_ his mind categorizes it as, having just this morning decided to skim through the pokédex entry for the pidgey evolutionary line. The Oak heir grits his teeth, concentration wavering as a nasty branch manages to prick his cheek, making him re-evaluate his current position.

Worse comes to worst, they'd have no real escape route. Any sound, rustling of leaves or crack of branches would alert the victor of this feud, making any attempts to run futile against the terrifying speed of a pidgeot or stamina of a machoke.

Waiting them out is the safer option, even if he'd like to continue on with his search for a new companion - survival takes precedence.

He's seen equally visceral battles on TV with his gramps next to him, cheering alongside his old geezer for his favorite trainers of his youth. But to feel each quake of the ground as titans of the battlefield square up against eachother, knowing how badly one of _equal_ strength could get roughed up after a battle — Gary wishes not to take risks regarding the safety of his friend.

Luckily, his partner had managed to stay completely silent despite the ease of which elemental forces are being thrown around them. Gary's quite sure his partners eyes are alight with curiosty, longing and fear.

As are his own.

It makes the young heir realize something.

This show before him, this battle between oppossing forces is not the apex of their journey, a goal of something unreachable — It's a _possibility_.

To be equal to these giants, it's not impossible.

The mere idea only makes his itch for battling worsen more if that was even possible given their situation. He's quite sure this maddening grin will permanently etch itself into his features if he continues that train of thought.

Clashing fiercly with a piercing shriek that makes Gary wish he'd been cowering his ears, the struggle of the pidgeot seems to take a turn for the worst. Attentive eyes filled with excitement focusing yet again on the battlefield before them, desperately trying to peak through the flourishing bushes. There's a roar from the brute, twisting and turning with dexterity, grappling with sharp talons that could've easily shredded him to bits, machoke finds its preferred grip with some moderate difficulty through the birds exhaustion of trying to break free from one with unbreakable stamina. The shrill shrieks of determination turn into ones of pure survival instinct, a _haunting_ side of what the wild has to offer. Hands of a giant starting to clamp down upon the neck of the Kanto-native bird, yet it refuses to stay put.

A twist, a turn. The elbow of the machoke juts itself into the exposed stomach of the Pidgeot, effectively silencing any further shrieks, quickly incorporating its superior hold of the birds neck into a swift manouver of grounding the bird permanently.

 _Vital Throw_ — Gary catergorizes it as soon as the movement begins, his gramps old Machamp having less preparatory movements, but there's no mistaking it. For every time he'd watched his gramps old tapes, from his glory days, this was the signature move.

Machoke doesn't let go of the pidgeot as it slams the bird down against the loose soil beneath them with enough force to almost make the Oak heir lose his balance, the quaking ground and echoing sounds testament to the tremendous strength the machop evolutionary line possess.

Squirtle fusses in his grip, on-edge yet equally fascinated by the outcome. Garys brown and the turtles dark-purple grow weary, straining to focus through the dirty dust that has been picked up as the bird collided with solid earth, wishing he could determine the victor.

His wish seem to hold some weight, as the dust gets forced away with a flash— grains flying towards his shielded bush. This time, it's not merely dust that gets sent flying. Branches, leaves in a myriad of different shapes and colors pick up speed mid-air, fueled by the several Hurricane moves of pure desperation the Pidgeot seems to fling point-blank at the brute.

Barely able to keep his sight on the two combatants, Gary reaffirms his grip upon his new partner. Murmuring a brief word or two of comfort, positive it'd be impossible to discern through the chaos.

Tearing his gaze from the visceral battle at hand, not managing to hold them open as the desperate, once airborne, pidgeot shrieks with determination— hurling any imaginable move in its arsenal as the Machoke repeatedly attempts to reaffirm his grip.

It all ends with a shrill shriek, a grunt of effort — and there's _silence_. A _thud_ remarkably easy to distinguish amongst it all.

Yet it's _eerily_ quiet.

No familiar chirp of pidgeys, feisty feuds between rattata left to fill the void.

Gary allows a cool breath to slip past his lips, his squirtle tucked neatly into his lap with his arms still secured tightly. It feels like an eternity, each movement of his arms sounding like dangerous echos just waiting to heard by the nearby titan. The Oak heir starts ushering his brain, through sheer paranoia, to think of any possible information his old geezer might've let slip about territorial machoke.

The sounds could only indicate a victory for the brute, he'd not _dare_ think of squaring up against it—

Gary shakes his head as vigorously as he dares to dispell his thoughts, this is not the time to be _scared_. It's not much he can remember, not in this state of internal panic. Don't be a _threat_ , make yourself appear _small_. The basics.

He's guided by his old gramps words, " _A wild Machoke would never initiate lethal contact should the target not appear as a threat to her young. It's of utmost importance to never make—_ " There's _another_ shriek, speeding closer during its brief duration—

Gary lets out a surpised, frightened yelp as the top of his green fortress is almost shaved in half through the sheer elemental force from apex predator of Kanto as it zooms right past his head. Cowering down due to pure instinct, the boy covers his partner with his own frame. The shrieks fade with each second passed, speed carrying it further into the unwelcoming Victory Road.

Ears ringing from the near collide, only replaced by the violent _thumps_ of his heartbeat - the Oak heir almost fails to pick up the thundering steps of the machoke picking up pursuit. Swiftly crushing through the unoccupied part of his gradually decreasing bush, the giant paying no mind to the havoc these two forces of nature had wreaked upon the once beautiful clearing.

Daring to look up, Garys eyes, wide with both shock and fear — wordlessly stare at the trail both had disappeared down into. Broken twigs, shattered trunks and a mess of brownish green leaves trailing along the wind.

Squirtles deep purple mimics his trainers, staring at the carnage surrounding them with a mix of apprehension and adoration. His young mind perhaps idolizing such power and finesse. Rising on stumpy legs, the turtle turns around the survey the destructio— his eyes fall upon his trainer, going wide before he falls backwards upon his shell, clutching his armored stomach.

 _Laughing_.

"Hah?" Breathless, the joyous sound serves to bring Gary out of his near-death experience related haze, brown eyes adopting a bewildered look, aiming it at the laughing frame of his partner. "What?" disbelief heard as clear as day, stubbornly brushing away the dirt off his jeans.

A slender finger upon a stubby arm points up at his head, howling laughter continues with ease as the turtle catches another look at the spectacle before him.

Gary does the natural thing when one would point up at someones face, he runs a hand through his hai— _Oh no._

It's shaggy, sharp. How it'd feel as if he'd just visited the hair saloon in Viridian with his old geezer. The look on his face must be priceless, because his partners laughter only increases in volume.

And then it hits him.

The pidgeots talons had been inches away from shaving away at his skull. It makes the Oak heir pause for just a brief second, realizing he just escaped certain death by the skin of his teeth—

And he _laughs_.

Maybe it's because he'd almost died, maybe it's because _they_ almost died. But the Oak heir laughs along with his newfound partner, clutching his stomach as he's struggling for breath with his friend at his side. Rolling through the dirty greenery.

It continues for a long while, not caring about the ruckus they're making this deep inside the Victory Road. Gary still grinning as he picks himself up from the grass and broken twigs, readjusting the strap of his awfully heavy pack before he'd help the turtle up on his two stumpy feet.

Maybe he's not completely sane.

He shoots his smaller buddy a brief thumbs-up, being mirror'd by a marginally stumpier and blue one. A big grin etching itself upon the turtles features.

Maybe it'll take its toll on him eventually.

"Hey, bud?" voice rough, strained by laughter. His partner cranes his stiff neck up to survey his trainer, a clear sign that he's waiting.

"How about we don't add a Pidgey to our group anytime soon, eh?" allowing a brief, sensible chuckle to escape his lips as he heaves his pack into its rightful position.

A cry of confirmation, big for the turtles small frame. It's enough to put his mind at ease for the moment.

But he's Gary Oak, grandson of the most prestigious trainer to ever set foot upon Kanto.

"Come on, bud. Let's just find a trail." Running a hand through his improvised haircut, Gary only feels the start of a smile upon his lips.

And he'll be damned if he'd let anything stop him from living up to that.

* * *

"I'm telling you, I'm not going to capture some Onix just because you want an easier time trainin'." Rolling his dark-purple back into his skull, Squirtle grumbles silently as he's trailing along on stumpy legs beside his trainer.

Gary Oak merely shakes his head, finding this whole stubborness to be amusing beyond belief. A few hours has passed since their run-in with the destructive duo, most of it spent trying to navigate to and from the different dirt-trails that had been marked in the pokédex map feature. Having learned his lesson about venturing too deep, the Oak heir finds himself monumentally more relaxed now that they're on a marked trail.

He'd been spouting off ideas to his turtle partner, deft thumbs toying with his pokédex as he'd brought up the numerous elemental creatures the route has to offer. Onix, Rhydon, Machokes, Arboks, Cubones, Gravelers, Fearows and _Pidg_ — Gary winces just abit as he remembers, the fear and shock fresh in his mind now that he'd have time to let the adrenaline run out.

A weary sigh leaves his lips, feeling much too old for his age as he ponders over what in the world he'd like to have with him on his journey. It's a tough choice, but he'd need to think about it logically.

First of all, any ground or rock-type was out of the question. It'd simply prove as a detriment to Squirtles training seeing as he'd _only_ train with a type-advantage in mind, it'd most likely prove to form an annoying habit the young trainer assumed. Such a habit would only serve to halt his friends quick progress.

A poison type then? No real weaknesses or strengths against a water-type. While possible to have it learn several grass-type moves, it'd take time and patience - giving his turtle plenty of time to get some much needed trainer-battle experience and grasp of his basics.

He's optimistic about Squirtles training, despite barely having known him for a week. Bringing up the subject of a poison-type to his partner gave him a quirked brow and a meek grunt in response. It's not the response he would've expected, yet it speaks volumes of how his friend feels about it.

Giving a frown in return, Gary could only assess what he knows.

Ekans, it's essentially the only poison-type he could find inside the Victory Road without resorting to travelling far too deep into the route yet again. While he's quite sure there are weedles squirming around in their surroundings, Gary's certain it's not the type of creature he'd have the patience to tutor. While beedrills are certainly fearsome in their own right, with their stingers and lethal poisons, it's usually far too reliant on group tactics. It'd be more of a challenge attempting to pry a beedrill away from its dead-weight mindset than it would to comprise with an ekans to not decide to munch on his partn— _Oh._ So that's it.

Arboks, and to a lesser extent ekans, are natural predators to the reservoirs these little creatures are brought up in. While he's sure there'd be no bad blood between his friend and one of either species, there's the ingrained nervousness of a child facing a potential predator that he'd have to deal with.

Scratching away at his shaggy, uneven hair, Gary Oak finds himself chewing his lip in frustrated thought.

While he's not about to focus entirely on centering his team around his first pokémon, there's their mental states to worry about. Training in fear wouldn't allow them to progress at the rate he'd find satisfactory. He's not about to proclaim himself as a prodigy when it comes to training, not even close to it when he'd been throwing rocks during his initial days and called it 'practice', but logic should still apply to it.

Having lived amongst the numerous different species on the Oak Corral his gramps and his understudies run, he's quite certain this would be the ca—

Stumbling briefly as he steps on something slippery, too consumed by his nagging thoughts, Gary Oak finds himself face-first into the dirt trail they've been dilligently following for the past two hours. Coughing, having inhaled the contents his face had been greeted with, the Oak heir pushes himself up on his knees - grunting through his coughs at the weight of his pack. Not taking note of his partners apparent silence.

Looking back, really wishing to know what in the world had decided to jut out and trip him, Gary finds his gaze locked onto what appears to be— an apple?

Really? How couldn't he have noticed the red fruit on the dirt trail when he'd been looking down at his poké—

Another apple is flung his way, just barely zooming past his head, the fruits flesh exploding onto the harsh trail behind him. Garys neck snaps up to the surrounding trees, gaze instantly wary of their apple-throwing suspect. It had been thrown with _force_ , not to simply annoy him.

He allows a brief look to his friend, finding the dark-purple to show a wariness that equals his own. Squirtles confined neck is craned similarily to his, staring up at the treelines.

"Be ready." the Oak heir murmurs to his friend, spotting a stiff nod at the edge of his vision, Gary rises up. Waiting.

They're ready this time, their unknown adversary throwing yet another red fruit through the treetops foilage with far too much force. Garys just about to duck when a spear of pressurized water connects with the red fruit, piercing it and the sheer impact sending it flying off towards the surrounding greenery— forgotten just as quickly as it had appeared.

The sight of his partners training bearing fruit is enough to morph his features into yet another quick and easy grin. Lazily pocketing his hands in the dirty jeans he's wearing, Gary speaks up.

"It's not nice to just throw stuff at people, y'know?" He muses, finding it awfully amusing that whatever creature it was had resorted to pelting passerby's with apples instead of confronting them directly.

"Why not just—" Another apple is sent his way, easily discarded by the fresh muscle memory of performing watergun after watergun, "—show yourself and we can talk? Battle? Anything you'd like."

Quiet reigns over their little section of the huge route, the creature seemingly pondering over his request or merely wishing to attempt another surprise throw. It wouldn't matter, really.

Gary's just about to order a watergun straight up into the treeline where the last apple had been flung from until a shrill screech greets his ears. Wincing just barely, lips twitching with barely contained amusement as their little culprit makes itself known.

Swinging down, tail grabbing with expert dexterity onto the numerous different branches on its way, the wild creature scales down the tree with little difficulty. Agile limbs gripping the trunk as it the slides down the last portion, its knuckles dragging along the grass as it hobbles purposefully onto the dirt-trail.

Furious eyes settles itself on Garys own brown, offering no greeting as it stands fully, tail swishing in the air with erratic patterns as it prepares itself for the inevitable. Raising its knuckles into the air, it adopts a practiced combat stance.

 _Mankey_ —the only other fighting type he'd be able to aquire next to the machop evolutionary line in these parts of Kanto.

"Battle, huh?" He quips, feeling oddly satisfied with the way things have been going. The agile creature responds in kind with a shrill screech, its enough for a wild grin etch itself into his features.

The Oak heir tilts his head, "Aren't you kinda small for a mankey?"

Kicking off with a furious screech that's enough to make even Squirtle wince, the bipedal fighter adopts an almost feral savagery as each step it takes towards Gary is punctuated by a heavy, manic breath— "Watergun!"

The tiny turtle responds in kind with his command, sending in a suppressant rapid-fire wave of pressurized spears at the agile opponent, taking care in aiming each and every one of them as he slowly takes his place in front of his trainer. Protecting.

While its agility is far superior, it's an open battlefield on the dirt-trail they're on, giving little to no way of hiding from such a barrage. In an impressive display of flexibility, the mankey curves, twisting its body to the right mid-sprint, a large sum of Squirtles projectiles passing by and hitting the dirt— a wild shriek punctuating its brief success in overcoming the initial spread of water.

Its victory is short-lived however, as Squirtle is quick to pick up on the fighters fragile balance as it twists and turns to dodge, starting to predict with surprising ease where he should place his shots. It's a natural progression, a time-limit upon when they'll connect in close quarter combat is making the turtle attempt to get as much leeway as it can with its immobile form. Gary can see just how the mankeys eyes widen in surprise as it connects face-first with his partners watergun, knocked back and down by the sheer force of colliding with it mid-sprint.

"Don't let up, keep him at a distance — it'll just be troublesome to miss if he comes close." the Oak heir commands, standing just a few feet behind his combatant.

Gary frowns as the feisty little guy picks himself up after having been knocked down, pondering over his suggestion to the turtle. While it's true that it'll be easier to hit if he allows the mankey to come closer, it'll also give too big reprecussions if his friend misses and their opponent isn't weakened enough. A fully angered creature of the mankey evolutionary line would wreak havoc on anyone caught in their grip if they're not feeling weak, sluggish.

He's confident in his partner having the upperhand despite that, but it's a question on just how far Withdraw can carry him should the mankey come within striking distance.

"Aim at the feet, force him to move backwards at all costs." he catches his partner giving a sharp nod at his command, allowing himself to relax a little bit.

Rising on four limbs, the ill-tempered creature lets out a guttural screech, kicking off with renewed purpose as it keeps itself tucked low against the dirty battlefield, eyes transfixed with deadly focus as it zeroes in on its opponent yet again.

Squirtle takes a stance, stiff neck craned and following each of the mankeys movements with surprising clarity, opening his mouth to spout off another barrage as he's desperate to keep the mankey at a dista— _Screech!_

Gary winces just abit, covering his ears as he surveys the battlefield through a painful gaze. His partners watergun volley cut short at the discomfort and disorientation only a screech attack could do.

"Don't let up!" Gary grits his teeth, anticipating the next screech as the mankey closes up some impressive distance between the two combatants by having to dodge less and sprint more.

Squirtle opens his maw to spew another torrent of pressurized spears, stiff neck visibly straining to keep up with the agile mankeys patterns, the first few projectiles find their mark of Garys previous command— effectively hitting just in front of the opponents feet.

Stumbling, grace and balance lost in favor of steering itself away from the unending volle— _Screech!_

Mankey recovering and another volley cut short, allowing for more ground to be gained easily as the mankey's just about to enter close quarter combat with his friend.

Having covered his ears, it's enough to not throw Gary off like before, however — his partner is not quite as lucky. The turtle's visage, from what he can see, is strained beyond breaking as he attempts to ready himself for another volley, last two cut short at the pain of the mankeys insistent attack. He'd ask his friend to protect his own hearing, but it'd be impossible for his friend to reach through the tight constraints of his shell. It'd take time they couldn't afford to lose.

Its close now, enough for Gary to see just how furious the little creatures gaze is as it flicks from him to the turtle with eerie precision. It's enough for panic to settle in.

"Fake him out!" he roars, desperate to have his advice heeded, the mankey not weakened enough.

Thinking one step ahead, his turtle quickly spits out two pressurized projectiles at the incoming crazed fighter, not bothering with faking out a screech beforehand. The mankey, having overheard the trainer aswell, is much too late to let out an ear-piercing sound at close-range.

Tanking one of the projectiles head-on, Gary can see just how desperate the little creature is to reach his friend as it barely stumbles, its impressive footwork keeping it steady as it's merely a second or two away from connecting with his friend.

The Oak heir sees just how his partner tenses up, torn between readying up another watergun or going with the more defensive approach of a withdraw. The latter option gives in, with a spin the turtle withdraws into his own shell, both limb and head— awaiting whatever punishment the mankey would try to dish out against his immobile form.

The mankey doesn't stop.

It's with clear horror dawning in his gaze that Gary realizes just _who_ the creature has had as its target all along.

The savage little fighter lets out a guttural screech as its three-toed feet jumps up, gripping onto the hard cover of his withdrawn friend, using his trusted partner as a springboard to launch himself.

Soaring through the air, Gary sees just how harsh white surrounds the mankeys right knuckle, its furious red gaze meeting his own brown as it becomes very clear just how _badly_ he'd taken his snide comment.

There's no time to dodge, fear rooting him in place as the fact becomes very clear that this might aswell be the end of his journey. It's with sheer desperation, teeth grit, that the Oak heir attempts to cower down onto the dirt-trail, his mouth forming the words before he's even sprung into action.

" **Watergun!** "

He's not even sure what happens next, he _feels_ the elemental force of the _Karate Chop_ slide just above his cowering head, a pressure upon his back before it's gone completely. Gary lets out a harsh breath he's not aware he'd been holding as a _thud_ is heard by his numb senses. Not even sure if the sound is from himself or his attacker, but it's enough for him to notice that there's no pain.

 _No pain._ Garys neck snaps upwards at a frightening speed, arms pumping with adrenaline as he pushes his upperbody up, finding his gaze met by his partners small, hard-shelled form.

Dark-purple latched upon something in the distance, Gary turns his frame, leaning back on one elbow as he surveys the dirt-trail behind him. The mankey lays face-down into the dirt, pushed away by, judging by his matted fur — his partners watergun. Pushing itself up in a manner similar of his own, he meets its sluggish gaze as it attempts to rise up on its feet.

Pushing himself backwards through the dirt, not caring about his jeans at the moment, the Oak heir feels his blood just freeze as the mankey starts to beat its tired chest. A low murmur starting through its apparent exhaustion.

Angling its head upwards, gut expanding as air fills its lungs — Gary finds himself having forgotten something so desperately crucial.

 _Mankeys roam in packs._

" _Knock it out!_ " He bellows, voice rough and strained, cracking at his panic.

A single, perfectly positioned watergun is shot as soon as he'd uttered a sound, his trusted partners projectile connecting firmly with the mankeys forehead.

Another _thud_ , their opponent falls down upon his back, unconcious.

Gary finds himself not having the strength to keep his body stable on one elbow as he allows a brief smile of relief to grace his features, letting his backpack take the brunt of it as he simply lays down in the dirt. Exhausted beyond belief.

"Nice work, bud.." he murmurs, knowing his partner is just beside him. Waiting, standing guard— offering his protection.

A meek, tired cry is his response and he allows a brief, strained chuckle to escape his lips.

Deciding he's better off not letting his eyes off the mankey, Gary sits up with a strained groan and peers back at the collapsed form of their defeated opponent. It's enough to get him thinking despite his tired looks, to ponder over his whole reason for coming here in the first place.

Another pokémon, another partner.

A fighting type would fit into his current, albeit improvised, training he'd planned out quite well. It'd prove to serve as both giving his squirtle some much needed combat experience that he's sorely lacking at the moment and to close off any potential close quarter combat difficulities they'd be sure to face in the future.

But those eyes.

Gary winces just recalling how _furious_ the little creature had been in his rampage to get to him. Maybe he'd be in over his head trying to tame something that'd already projected such hate towards him, it'd add some challenge and tension to their group he's not quite sure he'd be ready to deal with. But..

They can't just leave him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Oak heir takes a deep breath to calm his thoughts. Pushing himself up on his own two legs, grunting at the unfamiliar weight of his pack, his eyes flick naturally to the unconcious form of the mankey nearby. It reminds him of the painful night he'd been beaten for the first time, of the desperate pool of doubt at the bottom of his stomach not knowing if his first partner would recover or not. That maybe, just maybe, he'd screwed up much worse than he'd imagined.

It's with a hesitant, unsure twitch of his fingers that he reaches into his trainer belt for a shrunken container. "You don't have to agree with me on this, Squirtle.." He starts, finding himself at a loss on just how to explain it. Maybe it's the wrong choice, but it'd give him some peace of mind— just knowing it was safe.

"But, it'd be unfair to just leave it out here alone for who knows how long, right?"

His first partner stares with his vibrant dark-purple, tilting his head atop a confined neck, looking mighty unsure as he catches a glimpse of the device in question.

It won't be easy, he's quite certain of that himself. There's plenty of ways this could go terribly wrong. Attacks, motivational issues and battles turning far too dangerous for his liking.

But..

Throwing the ball towards the unconcious form of their former enemy, with a click and a harsh white light— the crumpled bi-pedal fighter is sucked into comfortable statis with a bright red beam.

It shakes. Once, twice until it falls completely still upon the dirt.

If he wishes to live up to his gramps legacy, to stand at the top of the world and proclaim himself as champion—

Grasping the container as he leans down, Gary Oak plucks his new partner up from the wet dirt. Rolling over the ball in his hands with a contemplative look as he crouches down.

"Backpack this time, shorty." He offers up, hooking the ball upon his trainer belt yet again. A joyous cry fills his senses as he rises yet again with some difficulty. Heavy turtle sitting atop his pack, stumpy fingers clutching onto his sharp and unevenly cut hair, happy without a care in the world despite their day.

—He knows he'd better start taking chances.

* * *

Gary lets a sigh of relief pass his lips as he closes his pokédex for the hundredth time today, having just informed the Viridian City's pokémon center of his absence this evening with a quick message. Seeing as he'd casually mentioned to the nurse on duty this morning that he'd be back by nightfall, he didn't wish to have the entire police force attempting to search for a lost child.

Leaning backwards as his head connects with the tree trunk he'd taken up camp beside tonight with a _thunk_ , Gary allows a quick and easy, albiet tired, grin to grace his features. Plans had changed, to say the least.

The subject for his changed plans was the little creature he'd not dared release out of confinement since its capture. Squirtle lay sprawled out on his stomach atop the boys lap, tired eyes drooping every now and then as they're both quiet and content.

Having taken up residence just barely a twenty minute walk out of Viridian, the Oak heir had felt comfortable enough with lighting a small campfire to make sure they'd both keep warm overnight. Free hand lazily placed upon the blue dome of his partner, thumb brushing over the sleek surface absentmindedly as the Oak heir feels his thoughts constantly drift over to the subject matter at hand.

Mankey.

Truth be told, he's not quite sure how this is supposed to work. Having not visited the center in Viridian, his new teammate must still be unconcious or atleast hurt. Gary had thought it over during his sobering walk back towards the city, having the fierce creature already weakened when he'd attempt to actually converse with it would ideal for both Squirtle and him.

It'd give him some much needed time to gauge the reaction out of the small fighter, the shock he imagine it would feel at being captured by the very human who'd mocked him earlier. It's a thought for worry, certainly, but Gary does not regret his words.

Infact, he's quite sure his taunting had spurred the mankey into action out of pride, thoughts of its potential pack forgotten. It's a small victory, not being torn to shreds by a pack of raging creatures.

He needs to apologize, ofcourse. Gary knows he will, it's a matter of if it'll be accepted or not however.

"Get up, bud." The Oak heir murmurs, nudging his half-asleep friend that's resting on top out of his bliss.

There's a meek grunt at his words, the slow turtle dragging itself off of him and onto the soft grass beneath, sitting down as soon as he's done with his desired movement.

A wide yawn punctuates his awareness returning, dark-purple latching onto his trainer with a droopy look. Clearly not fully awake just yet.

Offering up a brief chuckle at his partners efforts, Gary pats his head affectionately as he dexteriously opens up the large backpack he'd been lugging around for a week now. Hand slipping off the blue dome, the young trainer focuses his efforts on digging through the full pack with both hands, searching for the item in mind.

Bringing up a plastic bag with the logo of the Viridian pokémart printed upon it, Gary settles it right next to his hard-shelled partner.

"Don't panic, alright? Just be alert." It's a quick and easy grin he shoots Squirtles way, hopefully reassuring enough to warrant trust in his decision. He's not even sure himself if this is the way to go about things, but it's the only one he feel would work.

Tapping at the center of his recently dirtied pokéball, its top part springs upwards as the release mechanism is triggered, a harsh white light blinding him only for a split second this late at night.

A crumpled heap of fur is what greets his gaze as he's done blinking the stars out of his eyes, a meter or two away from where he's currently sat. Idly taking note of that his Squirtle seems to be just as alert as he'd been this morning at the edge of his vision.

It's enough to settle his racing heart for what he imagine could turn _very_ sour at any moment.

"Awake?" Gary inquires simply, seeing no need to beat around the bush. It'd probably anger the creature further if he'd treat it as a fragile caterpie.

The ball of fur does not move at his voice, simply remaining still and eerily silent. It's enough to elicit a frown from the Oak heir.

"You feeling alright?" He continues, not minding the one-sided conversation. Plenty has been had with a sleepy turtle as his only companion, so he's gotten somewhat used to speaking to a wall.

There's a twitch of the mankeys visible ear, a clear indicator that the sound had reached him. Through unconciousness or simply stubborness, Gary can't tell— but it's something at the very least. It brings a much needed genuine smile to his lips as he simply leans back against the tree-trunk.

"You really gave us a run for our money, y'know?" He pays no mind to how his turtle offers a meek indignant response to his words, merely giving his first partner a reassuring pat of his dome.

"Really surprised me with the apples, by the way." Gary offers up a brief, sensible chuckle. "Still feelin' that, so thanks."

The crumpled heap of fur stirrs, both ears made visible as the bi-pedal fighter attempts to push itself up on tired shaky limbs. It's a vain attempt, as the Oak heir notices the slight tremor of an exhausted untrained frame attempting to outwit its own limits.

It's the same signs he'd noticed his squirtle would broadcast when he'd come out of a particularily grueling accuracy session. He'd noticed, even kept some brief notes of the different quirks and habits that had formed during this short time. It would come in handy or serve as a much needed memory to ground him when needed.

Last thing the boy wished for was to go out of control with pushing these creatures past their limits.

Mankey manages to sit up, atleast. Clumsily attaining balance through sheer natural grace and ability, it peers at its surroundings through a thick fog of fitful exhaustion. It takes some significant time for it blink clearly, to regain some more clarity in its vision.

Sharp red finding their surrounding scenery more fascinating than his presence as of right now, trout letting out a quiet snort as it attempts to get familiar with the myriad of different scents Gary imagines would be quite foreign in its disoriented state. Attempting to turn itself by the strenght of its forearms, it's a full body movement that informs the partially oblivious gaze of the captor in question.

Red eyes widen, taut muscles and frame going rigid.

"Glad to know you're awake." offering a two-fingered salute, Gary remains otherwise completely still in his movements. Brown gaze settles on meeting his previous attackers red, not willing to back down at the furious gaze that had previously been inches away from maiming him for life.

It's with a limp that the mankey wills sore limbs to move at command, rising up on its slim legs as the brown-furred tail swishes with anticipation. Trout snorting out an aggressive tone that's very telling of its current intensions.

Squirtle rears into action, slowly moving into place at his trainers side, neck and frame strained into a rudimentary stance Gary had gotten familiar with. It would provide his partner with a very easy and clear shot should the angered furball spring into action.

It would seem the fight is still a fresh memory for all parties involved.

Tilting his head marginally to the right, Gary's brow furrows in puzzlement at the two creatures. Yet it's with an exhausted realization that he knows it'd be for the best if he'd stop this potential fight before it could turn into something that'd ruin these two creatures future partnership for good.

Heaving a great sigh that would make even his old geezer proud , the Oak heir holds up a halting hand to both would-be combatants.

Swiping the container of his newest capture off the soft grass beneath him with the hand stopping his trusted partner from action, trusting him to keep a lid on it. Gary holds it up for both of the creatures to see, and he delights in seeing the mankey's furious red gaze take note of something that isn't the two of them.

"Do you know what this is, Mankey?" he inquires, voice firm.

Some recognition seems to shine in the eerily precise gaze as it flicks from Squirtle to the ball in question.

A nod, sharp and barely visible.

Gary doesn't let his relief show, keeping his expression decidedly neutral in the face of potential rejection. He'd never force the mankey if it'd prove too much of a hurdle to jump for friendship.

"Do you know what it means?" The Oak heir continues, lips thin as he focuses his all on attempting to gauge Mankeys reaction. Running through many different scenarios just on how a creature would react to such news.

At his words, the eerily precise red center on him. Trout widening with each exhale, its body otherwise completely still.

A tense minute passes, no real sign of the mankey making any noticable movements of its taut limbs except for its heavy breath. Its gaze remaining perfectly locked onto his own, yet neither of them wishing to back down as the facts are laid bare.

It starts slow, the red trying to burn a hole through his skull finally settling back onto the container in question. The significance of the item finally pushing through the furious nature of a mankey. And it's enough for the boy to release a breath he didn't know was being held.

A nod, sharp and just barely caught by the young trainer.

Mulling over his next words, almost euphoric in his success so far, Gary finds his mouth awfully dry at the stress he's experiencing. It's with a troubled, slightly hesitant mind that he reaches over towards the plastic bag he'd left by his Squirtle.

He brings it up to his lap, slowly and quietly going through its contents until he finds the item he'd had in mind for this since the very beginning.

Bringing up the lilac and cerulean-coloured dispenser, Gary moves the plastic bag out of his way as he settles the potion he'd bought earlier today next to him. "You're hurt, right?"

Flicking his gaze towards the burning red he's growing more and more familiar with, the boy attempts to atleast compose an encouraging smile to the mankey. "It's a potion," He clarifies as the little fighters gaze travels to the small dispenser, "If you'd let me spray it over any area you're hurt, I promise It'll help you rest."

His new partner remains completely silent, muscles taut as if ready to spring into action at any time despite all his efforts.

"I'm sorry," Gary starts, finding it hard not to gnash his teeth at the unfamiliar word leaving his mouth, "didn't mean what I said earlier, y'know."

Mankey bristles at the mention of his earlier taunt, fur on all ends as its trout exhales heavily for all to hear. It's _really_ not the reaction he's looking for right now, that's for sure. His ever vigilant turtle tenses at the edge of his vision and he knows he'd better just try to find a quick end to this feud, even if it'll potentially cost him an eye or limb.

"Come over here," the young Oak heir leans forward and pats the soft grass before him, grabbing the potion with his free hand.

"Atleast let me make amends for what we did, it's bothering me." Gary admits easily, it really did bother him to see the damage he'd caused to the fierce creature— even if it had attacked them first.

There's no movement, not even acknowledgment of his words.

Finding his patience wearing thin with this stubborn _little_ — Gary takes a deep breath, attempting to calm his rising anger.

"You know what?" Mankeys furious red flicks to his serious brown. No more games.

"I'll give you a choice," It's always easier this way, "after I've cleaned up the mess we made, treated your wounds, you're free to go." this grabs the creatures attention far more easily than anything he'd ever said before, its whole frame turning towards him with just a _tiny_ bit more wide-eyed expression. Trout snorting at the hiccup of its even breathing.

Gary Oak does not pay attention to the shock, continuing, "Or, you'll stay."

Squirtle's neck cranes itself to look up at him, dark-purple adopting a more confused outlook on life. The trainers hand comes to rest atop the light-blue dome, patting it once before speaking up yet again.

"And I'll make you strong," a snort meets his words, filled with disbelief.

"That was Squirtles first _real_ battle," red meets his brown for the first time without any real contempt, firmly holding onto every word that's spoken, "and he beat you, enough to make you barely be able to stand."

Pride. It's the pride of a fighting-type he needs to overcome.

"You can be strong, Mankey— or you can simply go back to throwing apples to take out your anger."

A step forward, exhausted legs working overtime to carry it forth. Two steps, it snorts heavily through the haze of a sore and heavy body as the mankey pushes itself past the brief distance between trainer and combatant.

Standing at the edge of his lap, the once furious Mankey stares with eerie precision back at him. Fists clenched, Gary can only stay vigilant— meeting its gaze head on.

Paying mind to his _very_ stressed turtle partner, the Oak heir merely placates his worry of him with a brief halt of his hand.

It's with an almost surreal anticapatory confusion that Gary observes just how Mankey turns his furry back towards him, settling itself down upon the soft grass he'd patted earlier with an unceremonious _thud_.

A cool breath of relief slips past the young trainers lips, the sweat of his forehead telling on just how close he'd been to wishing his turtle to attack.

"You'll stay?" Gary murmurs.

Ears twitching at his quiet words, a sign that it had heard— it gives a sturdy nod of its body.

Turning his head to gauge his turtles reaction, he can only spot the slumped relief of the turtles frame as he rests his tired head upon the boys lap. It's enough to let a big, toothy grin form upon his own lips.

Genuinely happy.

"Great!" He chuckles, relief evident in his voice as he pats his trusted turtles dome before reaching for the potion in his own lap.

"It'll sting, so don't whine on me furball," A derisive snort meets his words yet he couldn't be happier.

With his night filled with laughter and the whine of a fighting-type, Gary Oak finds peace.

* * *

 **I had months of revisiting and rewriting the first chapter, I hope this one holds up.**

 **Also, this is my response to what in the world Gary was doing on Route 22 in FR/LG.**


	3. Fear

**Rival**

* * *

"Tail Whip!"

There's a clash reminiscent of their earlier battles, knuckles hardened and sore from beating upon the uncrackable shell of Squirtle.

They'd been at it for the past week, the first few days Gary had spent trying to get his two partners to form atleast a neutral opinion of eachother. It'd been tough, outbursts from either of the the young creatures frequent in their vocal disapproval of either party.

The only logical conclusion was to allow them to spar.

Sitting at the side-lines of the grassy clearing on the outskirts of Viridian they'd chosen for today, Gary's enamoured by the scene before him. Diligently spouting out commands, tips and righting any wrong as he saw fit.

Gary had been unable to wipe the wild grin off his features the moment he'd been able to _really_ observe just how he could improve his combatants. It had started easily enough, spar until there's nothing left other than exhaustion, try to help each of them with their individual flaws his rookie expertise could see. Trial and error, to say the least.

Mankey, the male creature had excuded a stamina far beyond what the Oak heir had originally imagined. Relentless in his pursuit to make up for the embarrassing loss he'd suffered at the hands of the turtle, he'd taken any advice the young trainer had given him to heart.

Engaging the turtle in close combat had prove to be just what the fierce little creature had needed to let off some steam, yet it had proven to be a nightmare as they'd progressed over the few days spent fighting eachother.

Reason?

The young turtle was a fortress given the right circumstances.

A solid white knuckle zooms right past where Squirtles head had been, withdrawn into the safe confines of his armoured shell. Mankey suddenly finds his balance thrown off as the turtle sweeps its sturdy tail with practiced precision right where his thin agile legs had landed.

It's a with a loud snort of surprise that the mankey is swept down on his side, natural grace and ability overpowered by the tail-whip that had been commanded. Using the momentary respite from continuous attacks, Squirtle slowly trekks backwards as his head pops up from his shell, observing his downed opponent with triumphant glee only a child could withdraw from a situation like this.

A furious gaze snaps to the one responsible for his failure, pushing himself up with a quick movement of an agile body.

Gary only laughs, "Hey, don't look at me like that!" the mankey merely bristles at his deflection, "We practiced for this yesterday,"

A momentarily confused gaze meets his brown this time, waiting. "Stay focused, you beat Squirtle remember?" he reminds Mankey, an encouraging smile upon his lips.

Paying no attention to the brief spit of water landing right next to him at the reminder of the turtles failure, Gary finds recognition shining in the fierce fighters gaze.

"You got this, try again." A sharp, static nod meets his words.

"Low Kick!" He commands quickly, hoping to catch the young turtle off guard with a rapid order.

It works wonders, a snort punctuating the maddening rythm Mankeys legs pick up as he kicks off in pursuit of his sparring partner, gaining an impressive length of the distance between the two as his turtles stiff neck is barely able to get into position to fire off a barrage in time. The savage fighter simply curves to the right mid-step, effectively letting any projectile the turtle had managed to conjure slip right past his agile frame, his body using the momentum of the curve to swing out a thin leg now covered with a white sheen against the turtles own stumpy ones.

It's with swift thinking that Squirtle finds himself forced to fight the mankeys leg with his own counter, his hard-shelled frame swinging with strength birth-given to meet his sturdy tail with the harsh white of a Low Kick.

Powering through even as he spots the resistance, Mankey finds his leg connecting with the Tail Whip, procuring a resounding clash— stopped cold.

A stalemate.

The two combatants hold their positions as each tries to overpower the other, faces strained, frames shaking at the effort exerted to hold eachother back. Mankey lets out a violent snort as he allows his own leg to be swept away, using the momentum to swing himself along the backwards trajectory of his leg, the agile and cunning fighter performs an experimental flip, glowing white heel guiding his way as it strikes down just where the squirtles head is located.

Gary lets out a low whistle of appreciation, his advice from a few days earlier having been heeded with surprising precision.

It's effective, quick and brutal. Agility unparalleled as Squirtle stumbles backwards at the heel having connected square on his dome. Falling back upon his shell, it's clear who's the victor for this brief round of sparring.

"Alright, that's enough!" the Oak heir calls out as Mankey seems to ready himself for another barrage of quick hits that'd most-likely had a more significant impact on his first partners well-being.

The fierce fighter stills at his words, frame turning towards his trainer in question with an expectant snort. Eager to start again.

Gary quirks his brow, meeting furious red with his own calm brown, "Go help him up, furball." he merely orders, turning his attention towards sorting out his backpack that had grown less full with each days passing.

It's with a fond smile that the young trainer spots his furry partner at the edge of his vision looking mighty uncomfortable before hobbling away on his knuckles with a snort, heading where the turtle lay upon his back, unable to rise.

A quick three-fingered paw juts out and grasps the neckline of the armored shell, pulling upwards roughly so the squirtle finds himself in a sitting position. It's with a disoriented, meek grunt that the squirtle offers up his gratitude.

Having found the assortment of items he was looking for, Gary calls out for the both of them, "Food's ready!"

Still looking mighty uncomfortable, Mankey merely stares before offering up a low snort, hobbling off towards their awaiting trainer.

* * *

"You're too slow," Gary states as he bites into the sandvich he'd bought at the pokémon centers cafeteria earlier today.

Squirtle looks quite miffed at his simplification, the brown pellets that makes up his food halted in their consumption as the turtles dark-purple frowns up at his trainer.

Offering up a mere shrug in response, "Your preparatory movements for Watergun are drawn out, y'know?" It's a rhetorical question, so Gary halts his hard-shelled friend from another response, allowing him to continue, "I'm not saying it's bad, you're doing really well with what we've got," a smile works its way into his expression, "but a fast and agile opponent will take advantage of it."

It takes a minute or two for it to click, Squirtles stiff neck straining to look to his right for the agile opponent in question. "Yes, like Mankey." Gary helpfully supplies.

"You'd probably beat him everytime if we can work on it," paying no mind to bristling fur, his words draw out the fighting spirit he'd always seen within his turtle, dark-purple latching back onto him with a snap, "something you can fire off at close-range without any setbacks would help when he, or anyone, is being annoying."

The Oak heirs own words makes him think, perhaps his earlier methods of throwing rocks for accuracy training had been a detriment to some degree. While he's sure it had helped hone his turtles aim into what it is today, it had been anticipatory responses. Not reactive, the way it is with battles. It's a bad habit he'd need to kick fast, should it not become a permanent trait.

They would need to work on it, pitting Squirtle against the mankey and allowing only Watergun to be his option would be an ideal scenario to root out the problem. It'd force him to work under stress, could this be incorprated into his furry partners training aswell? Dodging?

"How about this," Gary starts, finding two pairs of eyes settle on him as he draws their attention away from lunch, "We'll start with some regular dodge training, except I'd like for mankey to run _towards_ you this time, shorty."

Squirtle blinks once, momentarily puzzled before regaining clarity. It's with a tilt of his head that he offers up a grunt of confirmation at his trainers words, previous ones having ignited more than its fair share of motivation if it'd let him deal with the pesky mankey up close.

"You alright with that, Mankey?" the Oak heir inquires, brow furrowed in thought as his brain attempts to go over just how this would go down in theory.

Snorting, it's about the only response he'd expect as the Mankey seem to dig into his food quicker than should be healthy. Eager to start anew with his desired sparring.

"Great! I'd like to talk about you aswell, by the way," Gary starts as soon as he's finished up his meal, dumping the empty wrapper into the plastic bag he'd originally had numerous potions stored in.

"You're thinking too little," It's best to be blunt with this one, harsh criticism is what builds fighting-types, it's what makes them bother at all.

Mankey bristles at his words, fur sticking up on all ends as he halts his rapid consumption of his meal, "I'll commend you on that neat little trick, but if Squirtle had been a little bit more experienced, he'd have finished you right then and there." It's true, if Squirtle had been able to shoot reliably under stress Mankey would've either been knocked out or back by the force of a point-blank watergun.

"Being agile is your greatest strength, not your striking power," the mankeys brow furrows at his words, through stubborness or thought Gary can't tell, but it's enough to know he's taking his words to heart, "never stop moving, for the moment you do you're giving up your only defense and offense."

It's straight and to the point, "I'm not saying you should give up on attempting to get hits in, I'm just saying you need to _think_ ," tilting his whole frame, Mankey mimics a confused child and it's enough for Gary to realise that this is just what his partners are.

Young.

"You don't need to go all out, tire out your opponents with your dodges, think of where you can strike next instead of _just_ ," the Oak heir bites his lip in frustrated thought, pondering over just how in the world he should get this point across to the stubborn creature, "Instead of bashing your fists against something and hoping it'll work, understood?" Maybe it's too crude of an advice, but he'd hope to bash into the mankeys skull that unending rage won't win over brain all the time.

Mankey merely stares, unblinking.

Maybe with time it'll work.

Heaving a great sigh that rivals his old geezer, Gary could only wish he had his gramps expertise when it comes to stubborn fighting-types. It's with fond homesickness that he recalls the animated late-night chats about how stubborn of a machop his old Machamp had been, of old adventures he'd been up to himself as a young trainer, his numerous memoriable battles and exciting places he'd visisted. Laughter is the only thing he can remember and it bothers him.

It bothers him because he _wants_ remember his old mans advice at a time like this, that he should've listened more.

"Look," he wants to attempt to clarify, "just try to think, don't let instinct take over completely." Maybe it's hopeless to even try at this point, but perhaps with ti—

A nod, however swift and miniscule is performed by the subject of his frustrated thoughts.

Relief washes over him before he even has a chance to respond, it's enough for a shaky smile to make its way into his expression. "Thanks," Gary states simply, "just remember it and we'll do fine." morphing said smile into a big grin, it's the only way he knows how to cope with such emotions.

Finding himself feeling all too restless all of a sudden, the Oak heir rises from the tree-trunk he'd made his home for the day, fingers tapping away at the container of his first partner out of pure habit, its cool quality reassuring during times like this.

"Don't rush your dinner, we'll start in abit," Recieving a trade-mark snort and grunt as his responses, Gary allows a miniscule smile to grace his features as he walks out onto the small field they'd used as their mock battleground earlier, trying to picture just how—

It's brief, but enough to set the whole camp on alert.

The roar of a creature unseen followed by a humans voice, male from what Gary could discern, calling after it. Mankeys trout points up in the air instantaneously, heavy silence interrupted by the occassional snort, trying to catch a whiff of just who had decided to invade their little sanctuary.

"Get ready," Gary bites out, backing off and towards their camp. The forest surrounding them echoes harshly with his words, tranquil of the evening atmosphere shattering in an instant, "Squirtle, by me— Mankey up front!"

Noone argues, muscles taut and ready to spring forth at whatever had decided to disturb their evening, meals forgotten as quickly as he'd allowed them to return to it.

Straining to overhear just where the noise is coming from, Gary can almost make out just what— "Barking?" Gary looks down incredulously at his hard-shelled companion.

A nod confirms that his partner had heard it aswell, up front Mankey looks just about ready to rush into the opposing bushes to greet the disturbance, tense.

Heavy footfalls punctuate the air, several smaller _thuds_ made audible as their barking suspect draws closer and closer to them, male voice thundering behind it in an indignant and frustrated tone,"No— Growlithe get back here!"

Growlithe? They're not native to this region of Kanto how on earth could a person be chasing one down in Viridi— _Oh._

It's a trainer.

Gary's eyes light up before he's even finished his thoughts, "Mankey, get back here," It's best they don't allow their resident rage-filled fighter to greet their intruders up close if this is the case.

Furry frame turning towards him with a snap, ears twitching and craning themselves to listen in to their barking suspect drawing ever so closer, "It's another trainer," It's the only thing that would make sense. Mankey actually looks back at him now, eyes tense and grave as he tries to grasp just what kind of situation his trainer is attempting to convey,"Don't attack, alright?"

There's no time to say anything else, as the greenery in front start to rustle with their guests unseen, occasional bark and heavy breath trade-mark to a canine as it attempts to struggle through the shrubbery obscuring it from whatever goal it seeks.

Gary's quite sure Mankey would've already jumped in with his knuckles glowing a lethal white if he hadn't attempted to divert his original train of thought. It's with a tense and ready to spring frame that the furball remains still, having turned back towards their object of interest.

"Growlithe, stop!" It's the frustrated whine of an older male that follows the clumsy entrance of a bright orange canine with a cream-coloured mane and black stripes running along its frame, it barks happily at its success of pushing through the nasty obstacle in its way.

It does not even acknowledge them, nose running wild as it presses down upon the soft grass, having picked up on a particular trail of scent that had probably brought it here to begin with. Squirtle tense as Gary absentmindely makes note of just how his partners neck follows their quadruped intruder. The growlithe bounds over, ears pointing up and tail wagging as it makes for a sprint towards— _Food?_

Their male guest finally barges through the flourishing shrubbery obscuring them from the rest of the world, balance unsteady as he rights the spectacles upon his nose in an attempt to look dignified.

What greets him as he looks up is the furious red daggers a particularily tense and heavily breathing Mankey is staring at him. The suited man freezes in an instant, hand still upon his glasses as panic seem to finally settle in his gaze.

"Growli—!"

"He won't attack you unless you do _that_ ," Gary helpfully cuts in, having no trust in the mankey to remain still at the shrill shriek that would've most-likely escaped the bespectacled individual.

At his words, an earthy-brown gaze snaps up to his in its panic, still remaining completely frozen in the heavy presence of a fighting-type.

"And your Growlithe is eating our supplies by the way," gesturing off towards their makeshift camp for the day, the canine could be seen trying to scarf down his turtles half-finished bowl of brown pellets.

"Oh," escapes the frightened man, a simplification of the predicament he's facing, gaze travelling down to the furball practically holding him hostage at the edge of the clearing, far away from his own trainer, "My apologies, then," He coughs in an attempt to retain his dignity, "Could you perhaps call off your little guardian here?" slender finger performing a pointing motion several times to amplify his distress.

Gary simply nods, "Mankey, come back here," the fighter in question remaining still for a moment longer, staring up at the suited male with an unnerving quality. His departure is punctuated by a trade-mark snort, turning his furry frame away and dragging his knuckles along the soft grass all the way back. Murmuring a quick thanks to his friend, Gary refocuses on the their intruder.

It's with a flamboyant sigh of relief that the man starts brushing off the numerous twigs and dirt that had stained his otherwise quite wealthy image. It's enough to earn a quirk of brow from the Oak heir, along with numerous different questions as to what someone like this would do on the outskirts of Viridian.

He had barely seen _anyone_ out in the wild so far, those he had seen had been normal hikers and the numerous different tourists that would have no interest in battling someone like him.

"So," Gary starts, mulling over his words as he grabs their guests attention, "what's with the suit?" gesturing crudely to the man in question.

An indignant expression forms upon the bespectacled mans visage but it ultimately makes way for a resigned sigh, "Not much of a suit now that its been soiled," a pout that clarifies that this individual can't be much older than his late teens is present upon their intruders lips, "Oh dear, I fear my father won't be too happy about this one!" speaking in an octave higher than what's considered comfortable, It's as if he's talking to himself in rising hysterics.

Having exercised patience with something far more self-absorbed and stubborn with his mankey, Gary has no qualms about interrupting the man with jubilant delight, "Didn't answer my question," It's sufficient enough to have his intruder open his mouth in response with a raised finger in the air.

On second thought, "Actually, don't— no interest," and promptly closes it.

Maybe he should just attempt to get a real answer instead of trying to remain polite? It's merely an inconveinience should there not be a battle of any kind, delaying his training further. Not that he's unwelcoming of the fact that the man had managed to stumble upon his little training-ground, though the same can't be said for his partners.

Squirtle looks just about ready to stumble over and test the strength of his dome against the fragile one of a growlithe.

Gary's not quite sure if he'd stop him.

"Just what are you doing running around with a Growlithe in the middle of nowhere?" At his words, the bespectacled gaze travels past the postively furious mankey to his partner in question happily having almost emptied the turtles bowl already.

"He ran off the moment we arrived outside Viridian, I've been tirelessly chasing him ever since!" It's with an over-dramatic tone that he attempts to explain his horrors of the world, "My other friends wouldn't be able to help, now this whole suit's ruined and it'll cost a fortu—"

"What are you doing on the outskirts of Viridian to begin with?" frown etched into his features, the Oak heir cuts in, finding himself puzzled about what business someone would have this far out from civilization. Not that he's actually curious, it's merely a way to remain polite, and given their intruders garb, it's probably best to do just that now that he'd have time to think twice about it.

His gramps had taught him well enough.

Their intruder blinks, caught off-guard, "Landscaping,"

Landscaping? Like construction?

"Construction?" Gary echoes his thoughts.

A more natural smile adorns his more noble features, "That's right, Viridian is in dire need of reconstructive efforts," he begins, gesturing wildly with his hands as if to clarify just how monumental of a change this could be, "everything from the Gym, to expanding the apartment complexes, my fathers company has their hands in just about everything these days," It's with a wistful sigh that he ends his simple explanation.

So _that_ explains why there's a whole overhaul of the Viridian Gym.

Even though he's still quite sure he would've gone for Pewter first for the sake of overcoming the numerous forests and caves that'd be in their way, it's still a relief to know it'll potentially be open for when he's ready.

"It'll be quite difficult explaining why my suit looks like its been dragged through the mud," a more tiresome breath of air slips past his lips, "But, I suppose thanks are in orde—"

Gary powers through, having no wish to listen on about suits, wealth and everything that comes with it, "Are you a trainer?" If he wasn't, this would've been a waste of precious time.

An indignant huff marks his response, clearly appalled that he'd been interrupted mid-apology, "What does it look like?"

Pressing his index and thumb against the bridge of his nose, Gary Oak finds himself at a loss for words, "Let's just get it over with," It's said with tired resignment of his fate.

This is going to be his first battle after his defeat at the hands of Ash. He can't really admit it's up to par for what he would've imagined his first battle to be.

"Very well!" pulling back in a dramatic fashion, hand upon his chest as if unspeakable tragedy had struck him, he calls forth his trusty canine companion with a whistle, "Growlithe, to me!"

Apparently recognizing the tone of his trainer, the puppy comes bounding over with joyful spring in its steps, apparently satisfied with having devoured the turtles dinner. Sitting down on its haunches in front of his trainer, its tongue lolls out, constant heavy breathing present as it looks just about as prepared for battle as Gary would've imagined.

"Squirtle, you're up," His turtle slowly walks up in front of him, neck stiff and at the ready to lay waste to whatever would be sent his way, dark purple latching onto the their opponents with steel quality, "Don't hold back," He doesn't need to say it, but it's enough to allow a wild grin to grace his features as their opponent's earth-brown zeroes in on his turtle, puzzlement and wariness overcoming his previous determination at the words.

Quickly grabbing the second container upon his trainer belt, Gary points it at his side where the Mankey stands, looking just about furious enough to sprint towards the fire-type canine, it's with a shrill screech that he's returned into statis with a bright-red beam.

"Two versus two?" Gary inquires, tilting his head in an expectant fashion, it'd be best if he could get both of them some much needed combat experience.

"Fine by me," digging into his suits inner pocket, his opponent procures a shrunken container that he keeps in his grasp. Ready.

"So," Gary starts, pocketing his hands after he'd clipped his furry partner upon his belt, "what's your name?" It's a genuine question, offering to be civil about it. Taking his place further away from their opponent, their former makeshift battleground perfect for this occassion.

A smirk graces his wealthy features, "John," it's with pride he speaks his common name from the other side of the battlefield.

Gary's just about to answer, mouth open to offer it up out of courtesy, until he's interrupted with a swift answer

"What's yours," It's with pure glee in his features that John forms the next words, " _Shitty-haircut?_ "

Oh now that's _low_.

Gnashing his teeth together, eyes ablaze with renewed competitive vigor, Gary makes the first move, "Get up close— Watergun!"

It's with determination that Squirtle's robust frame steps forward, first spear of pressurized water having been shot instantaneously at the first syllable of his trainers command.

Not having expected such a rapid start, John quells his surprise and responds with a basic command, "Dodge to the righ— _Left!_ " panic present as he stumbles over his speech to change his order mid-word.

This isn't fun and games anymore.

There's clear fear in the canines gaze as a spear of lethal liquid zooms right past its head at the start of his right-turn dodge, barely skimming over the cream-coloured tuft of fur at the top, scraping by due to his trainers swift command.

Squirtle remains the ever-vigilant watchtower, slow steps forward punctuated by a perpetual barrage of waterguns sent rapid-fire towards anywhere the agile fire-type could be headed. Prediction of such opponents had been a staple of their initial training with Mankey, the fighter having not only given the turtle a hard time, but a valuable lesson.

Nothing's too fast if you corner it.

With a torrent not all too far from the likes of a hydro-pump, Squirtle effectively moves forward with watergun being deployed as rapidly as he could muster, while not as refined as they usually are against the furred fighter, it's the quantity that matters against a fire-type. Capable of not only causing discomfort due to splashes it'd create upon impact, but to end this fight should the turtle even manage to connect with a single projectile.

They're both anticipating their opponents desperate counter-measures, so it's no surprise when John finally speaks up, "Roar!" their opponent bellows to his combatant, Growlithe halting its ever-strained pursuit of dodging the hail of water, it rears back, maw opening as its lungs fill with air, ready to unleash pain upon those who hadn't protected themselves proactively.

"Don't fall for it— Withdraw!" It's with foul memories of a hard-fought battle against a screeching fiend that Squirtle halts his watergun mid-way, practiced ease in which he withdraws only his head and arms into the shell, effectively trying to block out any incoming sound.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

"Now, Growlithe! Flame Wheel!" dread pooling at the bottom of his stomach, Gary overhears just how badly they had fallen for the fake command, a roar of pride present as the Oak heir _feels_ the heat ramp up instantaneously, a sheen of bright orange envelopes the gold and burnt frame of a canine, it's with a terrifying crackling sound that the flame starts moving, harnessed by the fire-type into a wheel-like structure.

And then it starts.

"Squirtle, come up!" he can't hear him, his harsh voice not enough to penetrate the shell of a turtle that's desperately trying to block out a command that wasn't real.

Heavy thuds punctuate the air, sizzling of flames drawing ever so close with the canines honed muscles pumping over-time to carry it forth at a frightening speed towards an immobile shell.

"Get close, _Bite_ it to shreds!" a triumphant glee present in Johns voice as his trust worthy fire-type jumps at his command, burned and blackened leaves kicked up as the powerful haunches of the arcanine evolutionary-line leaps with grace only befitting of such a creature.

Sharp rows of teeth reveals themselves mid-air and Gary knows he's only got one shot at attempting to come through to his precious partner.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, eyes closed as he'd not wish to replay the scene of where it all went wrong later tonight, the Oak heir gathers all the air he can muster, it's with desperation that he makes one last ditch effort,

" **Headbutt!** " It's a scream, bellow, as desperate as you could imagine with the fear of having the partner he'd so unconditionally attached himself to wound up singed inside his own shell.

There's a pause and Gary's not quite so sure if it's because of the dizzy feeling he's experiencing but it's enough to force him to take notice,

The sickening _crack_ of something breaking is the first sound his senses make him aware of, the second is the yelp and whine particular to that of a canine, third is the unwelcoming thud of a heavy weight hitting the soft grass beneath the combatants, air heavy.

Opening, letting his brown gaze travel across the battlefield, there's only the sturdy form of a pale-blue fortress remaining standing.

It would seem their Skull-Bash related training had paid off in the end. It's with a triumphant, wild grin forming through second-nature that Gary finds just how _badly_ such an attempt had gone for the Growlithe.

Its form sorely trying to rise, legs working through the strain of such a concussing blow straight to its jaw. There's nothing that's wrong at first glance, Gary can tell as much, but as the canine slowly backs off towards its trainer, it's with an emotion unfamiliar to such an action that the Oak heir _laughs_ as the growlithe spits out two teeth.

"Great work, bud!"

A cry of confirmation meets his, and it's a sure way to know that Squirtle did indeed get his revenge for that bowl of dinner.

"Just a few teeth, nothing serious!" It's a deflection from the real issue and they both know it, such a blow couldn't have been great for the poor canines sense of balance.

Head drooping every few seconds, sore and every bit as exhausted as it looks, Gary can't help but feel pity, "Recall it," there's no need to injure it further, teeth grows back, fur punched off by a pressurized spear of water does not.

"What? Not a chan—!"

"You think it's able to dodge right now if I'd order another watergun?" Gary presses on, insistant tone hoping to get through this teenagers thick skull that there's no way this battle could be won anymore.

"He's tougher than he loo—"

"He looks like he's about to pass out!" the Oak heir bites out, gesturing towards the canine that's probably too far gone to hear them clearly, it's with a slump of relief in his shoulders that he spots the panicked gaze of John catching on, desperately fumbling with his partners container as their opponent finally realizes just how long of a pokémon center visit Gary had spared them.

A bright-red beam encases the poor fire-type and it's sucked back into comfortable stasis.

Lips thin, face just a tad bit more ashen than earlier, John looks over the battlefield of singed leaves and grass, offering up a brief but clear nod of gratitude.

"Continue?" Gary offers up, seeing as he'd agreed to a two versus two match.

With an over-dramatic sigh that's only befitting of someone wearing such ridiculous clothing, John agrees, "It's only fair I pay you back for Growlithe's sake," grasping the ball he'd procured before they'd even begun, their opponent flashes a big, pearly white grin as he continues, "And that means, by winning this in his honor!"

The Oak heir can't help but allow himself the brief puzzlement as the subject is brought up. Why would, if what the gibberish he's spouting is true, a wealthy trainer in his late teens run around with a less than stellar growlithe as a battler.

Sure they'd just been given a run for their money, but they're beginners. It just didn't make sense to him.

A harsh white light overpowers the battlefield for just a split-second, the reveal of their second opponent enough to shake the ground they're standing on as it crashes down, revealed to the world.

"I present you— Graveler!" It's with a roar that's unheard of, that said giant of a rock bellows his approval and it's with a wink that John continues, "He helps me with landscaping," he adds that as if it would help.

It doesn't, and Gary feels stupid.

Squirtle looks back at him, head tilting in a manner only befitting of their situation, "I know, I know— let Mankey handle it," a relieved slump of the turtles shoulders indication enough of just how tired he was.

"Don't get too lazy, if that furball loses you're going up against that no matter what," Gary can't help but add, relishing in how his turtle stares back up at him as if he'd lost his mind.

There's probably some grain of truth to it.

Ultimately, it's with a resigned sigh that Gary returns his trusted hard-shelled friend, absorbed into a comfortable stasis for the duration of their battle.

It's all or nothing now, his back is up against the wall with such a promising opponent before him. Is this how his old geezer felt? Is this how he's supposed to feel?

It's exhilarating.

Gary's fingertips are itching, stretching for the red and white container holding his savage fighter at bay.

This would be a battle to remember.

"Mankey, you're up," pressing the release mechanism, an equally harsh white light only fitting as an entrance to their toughest fight to date.

Seeing clearly, Gary spots his partner shake his frame as he's released, fur standing up on all ends as the young trainer is quite sure there's a positively furious gaze staring their opponents down as he catches a whiff of their little predicament.

"Hey, furball!" a whir of movement finds said furious gaze centered back on him, the Oak heir simply waves in a greeting, "Squirtle beat his opponent, are you gonna lose to him again?" It's a taunt, a jest, but it's enough for him to see just how Mankeys blood _boils_ at the chance to one-up his own rival.

It works wonders, a screech bellowing from the bottom of such a primal fighter and it's enough to make their human opponent wince.

"Start off slow, remember what I told you earlier— Focus Energy!" with an almost unnerving grace, the mankey stills his erratic movements, tail halted in its patterns as the normally furious little creature allows for its eyes to close.

It's a delight to see the fruits of their labor, the painful days he'd spent trying to get the normally hyper-active mankey to even stand still to converse forgotten as it's clear that this is just the start of their team that will rock the world.

A red sheen of energy travels downwards the slim and furred frame, effectively evaporating into the ground below—

Murderous gaze opens, centering itself upon the only object standing in their way,

"Don't rush it, he'll try to go for your legs as soon as he can— Karate Chop!" gesturing with a wild edge towards their rocky opponent, the boulder as immobile as you could imagine with its heavy form—

"Not so fast! Rock Polish!" A sheen of metallic quality covers the large frame of Graveler, lowering its base weight through artificial means to temporarily grant it a significant speed boost.

It's with a frown that Gary works through the ramifications of his earlier command, while there would surely be reprecussions if he'd simply let Mankey attack, there's also the problem of another Rock Polish being performed if they're going for a more proactive response.

The swift form of a furred bi-pedal creature centers him back to reality, darting off upon four limbs with grace and ability birth-given, Mankey speeds across the singed grass and leaves left in the wake of their previous rumble, their boulder of an opponent not giving the slightest of a reaction to such an aggressive response.

It's a cause for worry, and it instantly puts Gary on alert.

He'd once followed his old gramps on his trip to Mt. Moon, the rumblings of the earth present through those long arduous nights spent in constant fear despite his geezers guardians on constant watch, it's awfully reminiscent of their run-in with a far too strong machoke.

It's enough for Gary to realise that perhaps it'd been caused by the numerous packs of gravelers and golems present just about anywhere on the bottom of that horrible cave. He hadn't been allowed to join his gramps down there, but he'd heard the story a thousand times.

Eyes darting to John, the Oak heir spots his lips moving in a quiet command too privy for his ears, the brief but awfully telling form of the graveler unfurling its second pair of arms enough to set warning bells singing inside his head.

It's with a frustrated, wild bellow that Gary figures out just what could be their doom,

It's also with a terrible smile that he knows just how to counter it,

"Mankey! Jump up on Graveler!" a _Magnitude_ attack, enough to render just about anything grounded as their sense of balance is thrown off by the terrible quakes and shockwaves excuded by such force.

However, they'll _never_ center it on their own position, rendering those who'd effectively reach such an upperhand immune to the earth-shattering quakes that's small-time compared to a real Earthquake attack, however there's just the shockwaves that's a problem in their case.

Mankey could deal with a headache compared to being crushed by such a frightening opponent.

Scrambling in his haste, driven by the frustrated tone of his trainer, said mankey closes up the distance in a matter of seconds.

Heavy, grey and sturdy arms grasp the earth beneath, each insertion of a hand sending a minor tremor through the make-shift battlefield they're on. The first pair sends the agile fighter stumbling, a shrill screech positive to his frustrations in being caught off guard this near the Gravelers point of entry.

Both trainers cover their ears, teeth clenched.

Recovering, relentless in his pursuit as Mankey pushes past his limits, the mind-numbing shockwaves felt at such a point-blank range enough to send their resident rage-filled warrior into overdrive. Natural instincts for survival taking precedence.

Mankeys feet kick off the ground just as the second pair of arms buries beneath the earth below, the guttural screech of success enough to penetrate the horrible sound of an amplified magnitude.

Climbing with expert dexterity, the agile fighter navigates the gravelers form as if it had been his own, and it's with tremendous satisfaction Gary makes note of just how Mankey raises a white knuckle above his head, glowing with super-effective intent, and slams it down right upon the crest of the graveler.

With a groan not all too reminiscent of rocks grinding violently against eachother, Graveler withdraws his arms from the earth below, the mind-numbing pain enough to cut his destructive efforts short.

It's a panicked yet sturdy voice that John applies his counter-measures as his own partners rocky form sways backwards, "Rollout!"

Having removed his hands from his ears, Gary takes note of their situation immediately, "Jump off, keep close!" they would need to sacrifice their dominant position, but the Oak heir doesn't trust Mankey to be able to run along the rollout.

The jagged surface would put a stop to it and leave him with a flattened mush to recall.

A shiver wracks his frame. It's not a pretty thought.

Doing as told, flipping off with agility unparalleled in this battle, Mankey becomes grounded once again, knuckles holding him upright as he lands, ready to spring forth at any command.

Gravelers rolls forth in his heavy form, wreaking havoc upon the singed earth below. Coming to a stop, the giant of a rock turns with a more furious intent, and his trainer complies with his revenge, "Don't let it come near you— Rock Throw into Defense Curl!"

There's their chance! "Mankey, get him down with a Low Kick!" the defensive nature of John's command could only mean that they're trying to keep his furry partner from connecting with Graveler, the blow he'd sustained probably more severe than he'd previously realised. While he's confident in his ability to be able to call out the _real_ command as they're nearing close combat, it'd be impossible for Graveler to react even with Rock Polish pushing his speed past its normal state.

It's still not faster than Mankey.

Faking their point of attack to the rock-types small feet, it'll make them more naturally concious of the possibility, offering them an even cleaner retribution to give Graveler another smack to his crest with Karate Chop.

A rock the size of his own head zooms past Mankeys, coming to a thunderous stop as it connects with the ground behind, sending a tremor barely enough to affect to his partners balance. Powering through, the agile fighter speeds across the ruined battlefield, kicking up singed and flattened leaves in his spring, it barely takes a second for Mankey to finally connect with the metallic sheen of a reinforced defense.

It works like a charm, Graveler bending down as its arms come down to help secure the smaller creature into a swift hold, feet widening in a stance to ensure balance, the savage fighter starts the swing of his leg, shining with a lethal white intent for such a heavy creature.

It's mid-swing, furious red eyes looking upwards into the beady black ones of their opponent, and it's with jubilant delight entering his eyes that the sensitive ears of his furry partner twitch at his trainers command,

"Karate Ch—!"

"Tank the hit and use **Smack Down**!" It's with a roar across the battlefield that their opponent offers up a mind-numbing alternative to how this would go down.

Gary freezes up, brown gaze wide with shock and something that he'd not experienced since the first look at the state of his turtle back at gramps lab,

 **Fear.**

It's over quickly, lethal white in the form of a foot swapped to that of a knuckle with relative ease, mid-swing in his movement to lay waste to Gravelers crest for a second time, the rock-type meets his blow head-on without fear quite literally. It's with morbid fascination that Gary spots its arms that'd been prepared beforehand to scoop his furry friend into his grasp, open up its palms and grabbing onto a leg and free arm of the momentarily immobile Mankey— right as it connects with the boulders crumbling crest.

The Oak heir wishes to look away but he can't force himself too, as it's with a shrill screech that echoes harshly against the shrubbery surrounding their battlefield that the Gravelers two arms becomes covered with a white sheen of energy, effectively smashing the poor, much smaller creature into the ground with tremendous force.

Enough for his legs to shake at the impact, Gary finds himself at a loss for words.

Dust, singed leaves and loose soil picked up into the air, it's a shroud that's leaving only his own imagination to run wild of what could be the end of their battle between these two creatures.

It's a terribly long, drawn-out ten seconds before it dissipates and finally reveals the victor of this feud.

With shaking frame, a roar of pride and crumbling crest, Graveler calls out his victory for the whole route to hear.

Small frame fit inside the small krater, testament to the sheer force that had been excuded to knock out the Mankey in one blow, the Oak heir can't help but admit that they'd been bested by a small margin.

Lips thin, Gary observes the scene with a more critical eye as he grabs his furry partners container out of reflex. Returning with a red beam, the unconcious form of his furry partner ingrained into his retina, it's with some gratitude that he finds himself glad that it hadn't gone worse.

Slipping into comfortable statis, Gary can only offer up his silent thanks for a battle hard-fought, "You did well, Mankey."

Looking up, away from the container of his defeated friend, brown gaze takes note of just how much the jagged form of their boulder opponent is _shaking_ as it waddles over to his original position.

So Focus Energy did indeed come in handy, huh? Gary can't help but smile, humbled yet impressed by the sheer power such a small creature can possess. He knows what he needs to do, to end this once and for all.

"Finish this, Squirtle," finish what Mankey had fought so desperately to achieve,

Their first victory.

With a roar befitting of said turtle, he emerges amongst a harsh white. With a steel quality to his dark-purple, neck strained and at the ready in an instant, it's a reassuring sight at a time like this.

It's enough to sober him up.

"That was nice, I'll admit," he starts, calling over to their more than formidable opponent, "caught me off-guard, won't happen again." maybe it's cocky, maybe it's unfair and unture to say, but he couldn't give less of a damn right now.

He's Gary Oak, and he's not about to lose twice in a row.

"We shall see about that!"

It's an equally cocky reply but there's no need to respond except with this, "Send it rapid-fire— Watergun!"

Already in his desired state, Squirtle releases a barrage with clear precision to such an immobile opponent, there's no time to dodge, impact imminent as they might aswell have been doing target practice.

John opens his mouth to retort with his own command, yet his words halts as the first projectile hits.

Then the second, the third and the fourth.

It's a hail of pressurized spears, yet it's clear that there's only one option left for this poor rock-type.

With a bright-red beam, the massive form of a downed boulder is recalled into comfortable stasis.

"I admit defeat."

* * *

"You sure this isn't troubling you?"

Gary shrugs his shoulders, hands pocketed to protect from the cool crisp air of a Kanto summer, "Mankey's out cold, need to get to the pokémon center anyhow," It's only fair he'd escort the trainer whos creatures he'd knocked out back to civilization.

"Fair enough," John concedes, staring upwards at the starry night sky above, "Maybe I should take this whole training thing seriously." It's with an amused ponderous tone that the suited man reveals his thoughts.

Gary simply quirks his brow, looking to his right at the man in question, "I'm sure you'll have time to catch up for the league," While he's positive there'd be enough time for someone of the Johns caliber to complete all the gym challenges with the help of whatever wealth the man had rambled on about, the Oak heir isn't quite as confident about his own chances if he'd spent about three weeks out in the wild training before his first gym.

It's only half a year until the Kanto league starts up yet again, "Me? In the league?" Gary can understand his hesitation, he's feeling the same thing and he'd not even begun working his way through the myriad of different challanges that await everyone on this journey, "Don't talk nonsense, my father would disown me if I'd embarrass him like that."

A brief smile tugs at his own lips, "Maybe it's better to just try and see?" It's cheap, but it rings true to himself because of the promises he'd made.

"Doubting that," a sigh wracks Johns frame as they're walking towards the terribly large and illuminated building in the distance, a giant pokéball as an icon visible from just about anywhere, "He's never cared much for battling, it's all cash with that old fellow."

Admirable, in a weird sort-of old man way.

Shrugging as his backpacks straps digs into his shoulders, Gary can't help but wonder how his own old geezer is handling his loneliness. Maybe he'd been conditioned through the arduous years out on the road, but it's always been his main worry for this whole journey.

While he's certain there's many friends amongst his numerous employees and those that live in that small town, it must be lonely to not have any relatives close-by.

It's the guilt he'd experienced right as he stepped out of the door to their home, and it's the same guilt he feels right now.

Scratching away at his brown locks as if having anything else to do but remember such unpleasantries, Gary barely finds himself remembering their long walk back to civilization as the glass-doors slide open to the Viridian pokémon center.

Warm air fills his lungs as it's the first time in a good while that the Oak heir allows himself to relax, "Go on first, I'll wait," being polite goes a long way, John giving a him a grateful nod as he starts to chat up the nurse on duty for tonight.

Dumping his own pack down on the red sofas present just about everywhere in the lobby, Gary joins in as he lets the back of his head connect with the soft resistance of quality furniture. Allowing his gaze to shut, enjoying the peace and quiet for once.

It doesn't take long for John to finish his business, heavy steps bounding over to where he's seated, a nudge to his shoulder stirrs him as he blinks blearily up at the suited man, "Y'done?" It's slurred, enough to make him aware just how _tired_ he was.

"They gotta rest overnight, standard stuff," shrugging his shoulders, John takes a seat on sofa opposite of his own, "I never did catch your name, actually." It's with an astonished gaze the teenager looks over at him, as if having forgotten common courtesy to be a death-sentence.

"What?" Gary starts, feeling a grin tug at his lips, "It's not Shitty-haircut?"

His jest earns him a roll of eyes, "I'm serious." he doesn't need another look to know that he actually _is_ serious.

"Gary Oak." the earth-brown gaze before him lights up with such renewed interest Gary can't find it in himself to care enough about it. It's way too late for formalities.

"Well then, Mr. Oak," brushing off imaginary dust from his suited self, John rises with practiced ease before Gary finds a hand hovering in front of his tired self, "I'll look forward to seeing you in the league!"

A laugh escapes his own lips, "I wouldn't bet on it, but do win it for my sake, yeah?"

It's mirrored by Johns own and the Oak heir offers up his hand to shake, "Not my type of entertainment, but I'll consider it,"

Gary simply rolls his eyes back into his skull, ushering off the man that's probably too busy to notice he's wasting his time, "Take care."

It's with the swish of glass-doors reopening that Gary overhears his former opponents goodbyes, and it's also his signal to go up and get his partners taken care of.

Depositing the two containers into the tray the nurse had thoughtfully already put upon the lobby counter, the Oak heir finds his eyes drawn to the large section of video-phones covering a large chunk of the west side as its own.

It's without second thought that Gary finds his tired frame lumbering over, exhausted beyond belief yet he can't wait to share it with the ones he holds dear.

Yawning as he punches in the number he's able to ramble off at the top of his head, he finds his gaze greeted by a familiar grey-brown hairdo that's enough to make him feel like a little kid again.

"Hey gramps," a wild grin tugs at his tired features, "I won my first battle!"

* * *

 **Thank you for the kind response.**


	4. Brock

"Five, ten and— there's your twenty bucks," the burly hiker offers up the currency with a big toothy grin, satisfied despite his loss.

"Thanks." a polite smile etches itself into his features naturally, pocketing his winnings for a battle won.

"I gotta say though, that Mankey fights like it's possessed!" Loud boisterous laughter marks the large mans words, "must've been thrashed by a geodude in a previous life, hah!" It's with clear joy the man pats his belly, unaware of the surprising accuracy with his statements.

Thundering quakes of a smaller form smashed to a pulp against harsh soil replays in the young trainers mind, unbridled is the feelings it evokes. Jagged arms made out of rock halting the feral creature mid-air, neutralizing their surprise move with efficiency unbeknowst to him, smacking Mankey down as if he'd been simple pest. The frustration he'd felt unwelcoming during the days since but it had been a sobering battle, giving him much more insight into just how new he was to this whole thing despite the headstart you could imagine with following his gramps around across Kanto. However, he can't imagine the frustration over such a careless loss the creature in question would feel.

"Something like that," lips thin, Gary finds it hard to share the large mans happiness over such a battle.

If he'd noticed, there's no change in the large mans far too friendly behaviour. Offering up his thanks for a battle hard-fought as he picks up the large backpack he'd been lugging on since they'd crossed paths, marching onwards with a brief goodbye.

Gary remains where they'd battled, not far from the forest obscuring Viridian from Pewter, the Oak heir finds himself digging into his now fully-loaded pack with ease.

"You're getting careless, both of you," It's as harsh of a reprimand he'd always given, but it works wonders in sobering them up and getting their adrenaline rush to die down.

Squirtle looks miffed at his brief words but doesn't argue as the young trainer twists and turns the smaller turtle to spray a potion anywhere there's an angry dark-blue mark.

While it's true they'd been careless, there's also some improvements he'd taken great delight in noticing. Squirtles more robust stance, the not-so-stiff movements of his neck as they'd worked themselves down to the bone these past few days to right any potential mistakes Gary had been made aware of in their battle against John.

"You did great though, bud." A grunt paired with a childish grin from the turtle in question is enough to bring forth a quirk of his own lips.

Mankey, on the other hand, was struggling in a sense. Perhaps it was merely an ego that'd been bruised, but he wasn't about to go looking for reasons that wasn't there. He'd kept up his training, perhaps with more intensity than previously, but there's less of a feral spark when they'd battled the last day or two, as if he's waiting, watching.

If it's going anything like Gary had imagined originally, it's that his advice had been heeded with more clarity now that he'd been beaten quite soundly. His first cause of worry was that he'd failed the small fighter in changing his order at the last second, but there's no change in the treatment of both him and Squirtle.

They're all doing the best they can, really.

Sourly snorting a few feet away from the mending duo, it's with frustration of yet another battle ending too quickly that Mankey sits and flicks small pebbles off into the distance.

Finishing up his medical work on his hard-shelled friend, Gary whistles over at the distracted furball, "Mankey, come here!"

As if walking towards him had been punishment for life, the small creature hobbles over on his knuckles, brow strained at the pain of his right leg having been hit by a Rock Throw courtesy of the hikers geodude, "Stop being such a wuss, furball."

It was still a victory, however.

Furious red stares up at him and Gary can't help but grin, "Come on, let's just get it over with," patting the ground in front of him as a clear sign of his wishes.

With Mankey in place and his potion in hand, the young trainer goes about sorting out their recent failings, "You didn't need to run in a straight line back there, y'know?"

A frustrated snort meets his words, "I'm just saying, could've been avoided."

The quiet grunt of a turtle sharing his sentiments makes itself known, laying upon his softer belly in an exhausted fashion next to them, "See? Even hard-head here agrees," the bristling of his furry partners coat only inciting laughter.

Having administered the miracle-cure that is potions, Gary finds himself satisfied with his handiwork, "Alright get up, we need to get to Viridian forest before lunch," rising along with his words, he turns his brown gaze down at the exhausted turtle.

Dark-purple meets his, "Backpack?" a simple nod enough for the Oak heir to bend down and lift up the turtle in question, offering him the perch of the pack that had become a familiar and reassuring weight these past weeks.

Stumpy hands clutching onto his brown locks with delight, Gary turns his attention back down towards Mankey, "You wanna rest or continue with us?"

The bi-pedal fighter stares up at him, as if waiting.

Simply translating this as his furry partner wishing for some rest, he's about to grab his second container upon his trainer belt before there's movement at the edge of his vision.

Gary looks back down at the Mankey and does a double-take, eyes wide.

Thin framed and thin armed, the furry arms of the normally aggressive fighter are stretched up towards him. Expectant, waiting.

"Oh _for_ —"

Mankey doesn't seem to shrink back at the tone, and Gary almost immediately reaffirms what he'd seen, "I'd blow out my back by the time we'd see Pewter if I'd let you up there aswell, you know that right?"

A nod is performed by the subject of his future backpain, and it does nothing to ease it.

"And that doesn't bother you?"

Negative, a shake of his frame.

Pressing his index and thumb against the bridge of his nose, Gary Oak ponders over his sanity in even considering it. Perhaps it'd be best if he cut some form of compromise with these awful, back-breaking creatures.

He can already hear the creaks of his bones as he speaks the words, "Fine, but it'll be for a _short_ while, do you understand? Not even long enough for us to reach Viridian forest, alright?"

Doesn't a mankey of his size weigh around twenty kilograms or something? Lips thin, Gary wonders if this is how his journey ends. A more determined nod meets his questions, as if delighted he'd take part in ending his existence.

"Fine, just for a short-while, a few minutes." If it'd make the Mankey quit sulking for a day it'd be worth having to retire when he's twenty years old.

Squatting down with dread, Gary Oak finds himself rising with _**much**_ difficulty, frame shaking with the added weight.

"O-Okay!" It's all he can bite out, "o-off w-ee g-o!"

This is a nightmare.

* * *

Stumbling down, crashing against the tree-trunk he'd make his home for the evening, Gary is positive he won't rise tomorrow. Surrounded by the buzzing of an entire forest, it's a tranquil evening filled with pain and dread.

Pain because he's quite sure this is it, it's over. He's never rising again.

Dread because he'd need to start walking again tomorrow.

"Are you happy now?" It's bit out with a harsh breath, labored and difficult with the added weight now thrown off. Gary had returned Squirtle barely a minute into the start, the added weight of his shell making it almost difficult to get a single step in, it'd been met with protests from said turtle but he couldn't have given more a damn.

Fingers stumbling over his trainer-belt, Gary grabs the container of his first partner, not bothering with some fancy introduction as he releases him into their home for the day.

The furious steel-quality of dark-purple almost stops in an instant as soon as they're turned on him. Instead, it shines with bright amusement Squirtle could only experience at seeing his own trainer suffer.

"Oh, ha-ha," It's hard not to notice their positively glowing amusement, "I'll be doubling both of your training today," and that shuts them both up. It's with pride that Gary finds himself able to atleast sit upright.

"Go on, double the warm-up drills," settling an expectant brown gaze upon his two combatants, it's clear he means business now. They'd had their fun for today, and he's quite sure it'd be only be fair to add more to their normally heavy schedual than usual.

" _But_ ," It's enough to make them both halt in their movements, "Squirtle, follow Mankey this time, start running." His turtle stills in his prepartions for the watergun practice they'd always employed as a warm-up, looking more than surprised at this change of direction, "You can still shoot at him while you're running, make him dodge, think of it as a game yeah?"

This is his what he'd originally wished for, to be honest. Being able to manouver and take aim would be crucial in their upcoming battle at the Pewter gym, he'd read up on their usual matchups and most of them seemed favorable yet he'd also heard that even those with several type-advantages had been soundly beaten through sheer skill.

It's an embarrassment he'd rather not suffer through and it would be ideal to counteract his squirtles main weakness; being stationary.

While it's something you can take advantage of if he'd been, for example, a blastoise— his hide and shell simply isn't mature enough to withstand such pressures reliably for longer periods of time.

It's fine for combating several hits, tanking them with his sturdy shell, but over-reliance builds laziness, laziness begets stagnation. Battling is intuitive, reactive, having a constant reminder that tanking hits is an okay would just ruin their future chances in the league, or even sooner than that. It's a great defense to have aquired, but to only see his shell as a miracle-worker would be a detriment to their success.

However, the training would also build up his aim in a reactionary sense along with helping Mankey overcome the hurdles with dodging he's bound to face as he gets a chance to battle versus an equally agile opponent. With their previous training sprees having covered everything from shooting technique and hand-to-hand combat, it's simply a matter of refining their already superb qualities through grueling work.

There's also their lack of moves to complete their kit that's a cause for worry. While they'd already begun working upon Skull-Bash, Rapid Spin and skills of equal efficiency with his squirtle, it'd take time before he'd even begin to call those moves their rightful names.

Anyone can bash their head against something and call it a Headbutt, anyone of the blastoise evolutionary-line can withdraw into their shell and call it a Withdraw.

It's simply a matter of quality and skill that changes them into the lethal forces that is the upper echelons of such moves.

Mankey, on the other hand, was a tricky question. Cross Chop, Close Combat— it's all moves he'd heard his old geezer yell out to his machamp yet it's puzzling to him just how you'd aquire the knowledge to tutor these moves, let alone explain them to his furry partner.

Perhaps it'd be wiser to start off with something more easily taught, that's already ready and at-hand inside his pokédex— Bulk-Up, Seismic Toss, Low Sweep. It's all more straight-forward, easier to teach than the other moves because each holds a brief quality of the moves already known by Mankey.

Bulk-Up and Focus Energy, Seismic Toss imbues the same characteristics as Karate Chop into his grip, Low Sweep and Low Kick are essentially the same yet with different outcomes.

Would it stagnate his friends progress? Gary allows his eyes to roam over the furry frame speeding across the clearing with spears of water flying at a rapid pace behind him.

It's a fragile ego, and it's easy to keep feeding it but it's only a matter of time before the pride of a fighting-type makes itself known, wishing for greater challanges than he's able to offer.

Perhaps he'd simply need to visit his old gramps when that wall makes itself known, explaining that he wishes for the expertise of something other than a pokédex to further their goals.

The Oak heir is quite sure his senior would guide him with renewed interest if he'd only give him a chance, but it's tough to ask. Mainly because he's never asked for anything his entire life. Never had any burdens at all growing up and it'd feel like a slap to the face to break his promise to surpass him, only to recieve advice.

Maybe it's simply his rookie mind-set, that it's him against the world, but it feels _wrong_.

Gary feels lost and it's not the first time, it comes down to his regrets and childish confidence at the start of his journey.

A snort of pain alerts his gaze and it's enough to allow a brief light to enter his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips as Squirtle had managed to connect with a spear right at the back of the furballs head.

He doesn't regret it _now_ , not one bit. If this is who he has become, sitting out in the wild with his partners beating eachother black and blue to further _his_ goals, he wouldn't change in exchange for anything the world has to offer. He'd simply make it right by them instead, by his partners on this journey.

"What are you sulking for? Spit out the dirt and start running, furball!" Laughter springs forth and Gary Oak finds himself at peace, the joyous sounds of frustrated snorts paired with bubbling laughter from his turtle, it's all well.

It's his family.

Rising with monumental difficulties now that a decent half-hour had gone by, Gary hobbles over through the pain in his thighs and calves, "Alright, let's get started with the real thing you two."

"Hand-to-hand!" He calls over the clearing, both combatants scrambling over to his side, awaiting any instructions necessary.

"No tail whip or withdraw, Squirtle," gaze swapping to his furry partner he continues, "No low-kick, Mankey." Both nod at his instructions, not wishing for elaborations as they'd already had them ingrained into memory.

"This is about stress-management, dodge and weave as best you can, being knocked down results in a loss," It's with a thoughtful hum that Gary finds himself ponderous for a brief moment.

"Actually, only watergun for you, Squirtle. No headbutt for the first half." Mankey looks positively delighted at this turn of events.

"And _no_ screeching from you, furball," It's cut short with surprising effectiveness, "I don't want a horde of beedrills coming just because you can't sing," grinning wide, it's mirrored by his formidable turtle.

Making sure they're on either side of the clearing, it's with a simple gesture of his hand in the air that Gary prepares them both.

"You'll get your chances to go all out, but we need to get this working first," there's a pause, "Ready?"

A roar of determination, a snort of pride, "Begin!"

And boy, does it _begin_.

There's barely enough time for Gary to move out of the way before a pressurized spear of water is spit out towards the far too agile opponent, hobbling away on his strained legs in a hurry, it's a success and he seats himself back down against the tree-trunk with a satisfied smile.

A quick look towards his turtle confirms his suspicions, and it's with a swift and easy holler that he calls over, "You're straining again, Squirtle! Loosen up, take your time and aim!"

Miniscule is the nod that answers his words, dark-purple working overtime to trace the fiendish fighter just dodging and weaving his way forward not all too far off in theory from their first battle.

It's the same pattern of movements, Mankey desperately trying to stay focused on the projectiles heading his way, the severse distaste of when one connects burned into his mind since the moment of capture. It's a revisit of his loss, it always is, and Gary finds it to simply be a good reminder.

A fighting-type need constant challenge, reminders. That's what Squirtle is, a reminder of strength he's willing to achieve, to surpass, and it's why the agile fighter slips past a nasty spear of water as he spins mid-step. Willing his legs to work over-time to carry him forth, to engage the turtle in his most vulnerable area of expertise.

It's the fruit of their labor, knowing eachothers weaknesses. It's why Squirtle needs to be able to _relax_ during more intense situations, to not have a hiccup and release his shot far too late than he'd been anticipating.

Despite Garys words, there's still some strain to his movements, even if they'd been fine against the hiker earlier today, it's a different story fighting something that can close the distance between you in about three or four seconds if you'd slip up. He's not fully evolved yet, he's still a rather fragile creature despite his defensive capabilities, movements stiff and restrained by a shell birth-given. It's only natural to progress by helping him cope with said disabilities.

And this is just that.

"Squirtle, start moving yourself!" there's no grin present on Garys features, no more games as they'd begun their training for real. Eyes roaming the small turtles frame as he's remaining stationary despite his words for a second tad too long, it's what he expected. While he'd ordered him to move, simply releasing his barrage of suppressant fire against the mankey would allow the fighting-type monumental advantage and ground being gained between the two.

"Back up— keep firing!" Focusing his calls on Squirtle in particular, it allows Mankey to improvise with the information he's given. These creatures aren't dumb, not in the slightest, if an opponent calls out a command there's the chance they'll switch up half-way through on their own to counter it. Sometimes it's pre-made tactics, strategy employed with improvisation.

While it's his job to stand and direct them, to create strategy, perhaps it's more ideal of a choice as they're both young and untrained. But as they progress, it'd be simple suggestions. Allowing them to function as if they were in the wild would bring forth much better results when it comes to personal progress.

He'll always be behind them, giving them ideas and suggestions, but ultimately it's not himself that's out there taking the brunt of their battles.

"Sweep the area, don't try to predict— Mankey's too close!" It's a simple advice, the ground gained in his fumble to heed the advice given earlier allowing the feral little creature to speed past his earlier barrages with more ease. A sweep would require ducking or jumping, slowing down the speed of which a creature of the mankey evolutionary-line finds crucial in both offense and defense.

It's barely enough room to breathe, but it creates a steady pattern of relaxation as it allows for some brief respite from full stress.

"Keep it up, Squirte!" encouragement called out, Gary notices just how said turtle rights his previously sloppy form marginally. Slipping into such a superior stance should be second nature, and they're _very_ close to achieve it— a simple push is required and Gary knows just what he'd need to get access to such a button.

"Mankey, use the terrain— Karate Chop on the ground!" It's with tremendous satisfaction that his furred partner instantly heeds his advice without question, lethal white shining before his knuckle is slammed down into the ground mid-sprint.

Dust kicks up, Squirtles wide sweeps stopping in an instant. It's great to see this from the side-lines, knowing how either would move with such an invisible wall between them. Mankeys frame taut through the dust cloud, ready to spring as he's doing the best he can to remain silent as if to use it to his advantage. Squirtles neck looks relaxed and there's clarity shining in his dark-purple, slowly moving backwards and it's with pride that Gary finds himself watching the turtle.

It's the frame of someone who'd battled and heeded his advice since the beginning, the calm he can just _see_ wash over his friend is amazing. "Mankey," his brown is locked upon the pale-blue of his hard-shelled friend, "Use Focus-Energy!"

There's no reaction from his turtle except moving backwards, no facial expressions changing in the slightest, simply calm and analyzing.

A red sheen of energy escapes his furry partners frame, and Squirtle instantly looks towards where Mankey first kicks off as he powers through the dust cloud with renewed pride and confidence. It's his death-wish, as Squirtle smoothly transitions into yet another shooting stance in an instant, laying waste to the area he just arriving from.

A shrill whine punctuates his first hit, making his agile opponent stumble as he's emerging from the dust that's now settling, it's with another well-placed shot that Squirtle accurately connects with the furry forehead of his teammate. It's enough to send the Mankey sprawling backwards— knocked down upon his back with surprising ease.

It's with a smile that Gary declares their victor for this small part of their training regiment, "Mankey, you're out!"

Squirtle waddling over with his confined frame, it's interesting how much he could change if given the right circumstances. Giving Squirtle the chance to relax momentarily, to slip into their ideal shooting form with more ease, had given him a massive advantage he's quite sure would imprint itself into the turtles mind. It's a great way to beat out his proactive approach to battles, allowing him to grasp just how it feels to play reactive.

If it's subconcious to change into his preferred stance, it'd go much simpler and there's no need to get stressed to begin with. While he's sure this isn't some miraculous change, infact, Gary's quite certain this is simply a guide-line for his friend—it'll help them greatly given how big of a challenge he's pitting Squirtle up against when they arrive in Pewter. There's a long way until he'd even consider this 'finished', there will always be room for refinement, for improvement.

Offering up a stubby arm towards the downed Mankey, his turtle seems somewhat satisfied with his performance so far. Snorting, the furry fighter begrudgingly accepts his help, pushing himself upwards at the expense of Squirtle.

"Alright, alright— let's go all out this time!" Gary hollers over, catching both of their attention and it's with two identical nods that they assume their positions without question, both at the end of each side on their little make-shift battlefield.

"Ready? Also, no screeching furball!" An angry snort meets his words and Gary can't help but grin, "Begin!"

* * *

"Tail Whip, sweep it off its feet— Headbutt!" It's with a roar that Gary commands his hard-shelled friend, trusting him to heed it with ease.

"Venonat, try to—!" It's not enough, the close-range they'd forced themselves into with desperation to attempt a Sleep-Powder attack had backfired on them monumentally, and it's with a sweep of Squirtles sturdy tail that Venonat finds itself grounded upon the loose soil beneath, helpless as the next action it sees with its numerous eyes is the turtles hard dome shining a harsh white, slamming it into unconciousness with a resounding thud.

It's crude, but it's what you'll get when you attempt to engage them in close-combat. Gary offers up a pointed look to their opponent with a tilt of his head, and it's with a sigh that their opponent recalls their downed bug-type. Slipping back into comfortable stasis, their challenger walks over the ruined battlefield with a big grin on his features.

"I thought I had you for a second there, mister!" The straw-hat upon his head almost falling off in his laughter, offering up a grand smile along with the winnings well-deserved to the victor of their battle.

"You almost did, that sleep-powder was unexpected," suffice to say, watergun had put a stop to it effectively, disrupting the preparatory moments almost instantaneously before a single stoft of powder had been released. It would've been a race against time otherwise and Gary was quite sure it'd been a loss if they hadn't managed to end it so quickly.

Grabbing his winnings, Gary crumples them down into his pockets, seeing no need to remove his pack and dig for his wallet right now, "Thanks, if you'd gotten that off it would've been over." It's hard not to point it out, they'd basicly won by the skin of their teeth.

The bug-catcher waves him off, taking it in good stride all considering, "Venonat has only been working on it for a few days, it's great to see how I can improve it. It's why we used it." Smart, it's the only way Gary can describe that way of thinking, using the earlier versions of a move you'd just aquired to root out their problems, overcoming them quicker than if you'd simply spent forever trying to refine what you got.

A quirk of his lips makes itself appear, and he's just about to turn and walk off with a murmured goodbye before catching himself for his original reason to have even approached the bug-catcher.

Directions. They had been wandering inside Viridian forest for the past two days, most spent training and slowly creeping through the numerous obstacles that'd been marked on his Pokédex, sticking to the marked trails he's sure would get him out alive. He'd learned his lesson.

Last thing he'd need was to get chased down by a pack of angry beedrills, and suddenly Gary finds himself really wishing he hadn't tried to downplay their group-tactics.

The brief instructional videos he'd watched about them as he'd been wandering through the forest had been enough to sober him up. It was terrifying.

Shaking his head, clearing it of doubt, Gary coughs once to regain the bug enthusiasts attention, "Hey, do you know if we're close to Pewter City?" readjusting the straps of his backpack, Squirtle and Mankey both at his side, he'd imagined it looked silly to ask for something as simple.

It would seem the young trainer doesn't mind, grasping his chin in thought and looking just about anywhere except him, "Well, I'd say you're close, follow uh.." pointing along the trail that they had originally followed before stumbling into a battle, "follow the trail until you find the first left, then just go straight until you'll see all the signs that's propped up, it's the best I can offer— it's how I got here." It's with a shrug of his shoulders that the bug-catcher finishes his advice.

It's better than he'd expected, so Gary flashes him a grateful grin, "Thanks!"

Offering up their goodbyes, the two part ways and the Oak heir finds himself diligently following their instructions, Mankey and Squirtle stumbling along next to them at their own pace despite the training and battles they'd had.

Still sore though, and it's actually quite a challenge to power through the ache in his legs, but if they're _that_ close to just finding the exit, slamming down camp in the middle of a trail didn't seem like such a lucrative idea compared to the warm bed a pokémon center could offer.

Choices, choices— it's probably best to just get this pesky forest over with, so Gary finds himself trekking along the trail in peace with his family nearby. Mankey diligently following them through the tree-tops now that they're free to roam however they'd like, it's a calming sight to see his friend in his natural habitat. Enjoying himself.

A yawn from his right alerts him of his Squirtles exhaustion and he can't help but feel pity, "Backpack?" he murmurs, looking down at the turtle struggling to keep up with his pace.

Dark-purple latches itself onto his calm brown, nodding slowly— slumping in relief now that he didn't need to remain awake for the last bit of walking. Chuckling, Gary struggles as he bends down to pick up the Squirtle that weighs significantly less than his furry partner, barely feeling the resistance these days as he places him upon the top of his backpack.

A chin hits the top of his head, and it's with familiar calm that Gary continues his trek.

Pewter awaited them, and he's not about fail now. It takes a significant while for them to progress through the instructions given to them, re-reading signs and the likes common, but eventually Gary can _finally_ spot buildings through the treetops, allowing him a sigh of relief as they've just about made it out from this nasty forest. Whistling as if to alert his furry partner that it's time to get down and follow him, it's heeded with some derisive snorts, clearly unhappy that they're just about to exit Viridian forest and leave these beautiful treetops alone.

Paved ground soon meets his sneakers instead of dirty trails, it's a comforting sound that's enough to sober him up. To make him realize just how tired he actually was.

Looking sky-high, he can already see the terribly large and illuminated building sporting a pokéball as their logo and he knows that it's his next destination to finally give him the rest he deserved.

Unclipping his second container on his trainer belt, Gary offers up his thanks, "Get some rest, Mankey," and promptly returns his furry partner into comfortable stasis for the night.

Given how he can hear the soft breaths of his turtle sleeping, it's enough for the Oak heir to just leave him be for the moment. Enjoying the fresh air of a crisp Kanto summer night, it doesn't take long for him to reach his final destination for the day.

Glass doors sliding open, the warmth of the pokémon center washes over him and it's enough for him to finally relax, "Welcome to the Pewter City pokémon center!" It would seem like it's a slow evening, only a handful of other people strewn about on the numerous different couches and video-phones availible to all trainers.

Stepping up to the counter, seeing as there's noone waiting, Gary flashes a quick smile before reaching up behind his head. Procuring a sleeping turtle, he gently settles him down upon the tray along with the two containers in his possession.

Nurse Joy looks to be positively glowing with amusement, so Gary pushes a finger to his lips, shushing her with a big grin upon his exhausted features.

A giggle is earned before she silently starts typing away at the computer present, "They'll be as good as new tomorrow, Mr. Oak." It's spoken in a whisper before she grabs the empty container he'd passed along and promptly returns his Squirtle into comfortable stasis.

"Thanks, are there any rooms available?" Speaking normally now that there's no sleepy turtle present, his answer comes in the form of the keycard offered up to him, "Room 32-D, just down the hall to your left."

"Cheers," grabbing the offered keycard, Gary finds himself walking down the hall to his new room, barely registering opening it and removing his pack before the soft sheets of a newly made bed greets his face, and he can't help but think one thing and one thing only;

There's nothing better than sleep.

* * *

Maybe it's just a gym-battle that's on-going and rocking the ground he's walking on as there's no way he'd actually be _that_ nervous, right? Lips thin, Gary Oak finds himself wandering over to the nearby Pewter Gym this morning to just scout things out. He'd left Squirtle and Mankey in the care of Nurse Joy as he want for them to be in top-form by the time they actually go and challenge the leader.

It'll be his own fault if his nerves come in the way, it's better to just see what he'll be up against than walk in head-on to certain defeat. Call it curiosity, but Gary's quite sure it's just his paranoia acting up now that they have gotten this far along on their journey.

Brown gaze travelling further up the paved street his sneakers are repeatedly hitting, it's with fascination that the Oak heir finds them locked upon the building that's the root of all these problems.

It's imposing, to say the least. The marble façade almost looking like it's glowing a dull grey as the morning rays of sun shines upon it, the tiled and clean purple roof behind it most-likely hiding where he'd spend the rest of today battling it out versus their toughest opponent he's sure to have faced so far.

Defensive manouvers had been a staple of the videos he'd watched earlier this morning, a growing testament to the true strength of the Pewter City gym-leader. It'll be a battle for endurance and Gary isn't quite sure that's the type of fight they're awfully prepared for.

While type-advantages are to his favor, Gary's sure there has been hundreds, maybe thousands of trainers that had come knocking upon that door, thinking it'd be easy simply because they'd aquired one of the numerous weaknesses a rock or ground-type could have.

It won't be easy any way you see it, and that's what makes him feel so _nervous_.

Following the paved road Nurse Joy had recommended leads him to his desired location, the chatter of children younger than him catching his attention just as he rounds the corner. It's a bizarre sight and it only makes his nervousness increase ten-fold.

Currently standing by the windows present at the entry of the Pewter Gym, there's a small group of kids trying to wrestle amongst eachother for spots to watch the current ongoing battle between the leader and some other trainer. The brief, but noticable tremors giving it away before he'd even taken a peak through a window.

"What's he fighting?" It's a simple question, enough for some of the kids to be willing to break away from their position at the windows to look at him fully.

"A gloom!" one of the kids clarifies with amazement, then again, Gary's quite sure they're not that common amongst these parts. Kids younger than him, and probably a few his own age, haven't seen much of what the world has to offer.

He has, but it's still enough to excite him at the prospect of seeing one in battle. Murmuring a quick thanks that he's sure none of them had heard in their ruckus, Gary's a lot taller than them, easily taking up space behind them and giving him a clear view of the battle on-going.

It's enough to chill him to his very core, as the heavy tail of an Onix flings said Gloom into the oppossing wall with little effort. There's no need to hear as he's quite sure the grass-types trainer is in hysterics trying to right all the wrongs that had been commited so far.

Rising with difficulty, the plant-like creature starts to shake the flower atop its head, probably hoping to affect the Onix with the numerous spores and powders that's availible in its arsenal. It's a smart move, probably the safest bet they've got given how easily Onix is able to just weave around any other attacks the Gloom might have. Speed isn't their strength, and it's confirmed when the Onix crashes down into the earth with a quake large enough to almost shift his balance outside the gym.

Giant eyes with its beady pupils closing with difficulty as the effects of sleep-powder makes itself known. A gamble, if anything, but the young trainer must really be desperate if they wish to chance upon the Onix not waking up after taking a few hits from the glooms super-effective moveset. Frowning, attempting to tune out the dismay of several children seeing their, most-likely, favorite creature be downed in such a fashion— it's enough to make him ponder over his next choices of teammates.

A grass-type would perfectly round out his team, the numerous advantages it could give him when it comes to training and attempting to mitigate spore and powder moves would be more than helpful. His only problem would be to actually _find_ one, and unless he'd wish to go back into Viridian forest and find a caterpie to suit his needs for such training despite its different typing, it's more likely he'd find one in Cerulean City at the other side of the looming Mt. Moon.

It's not a pretty train of thought, that horrible cave system. It'll be his first time without his gramps there to ensure survival with his team of veterans, and Gary's certain there'll be no second chances once inside.

Lips thin, attempting to push such thoughts out of his mind, the Oak heir refocuses on the battle that had taken a turn for the worst. A roar signifies the waking of such a giant, the Onix using its rather flexible large frame to duck and weave from the numerous different drain-like attacks that's trademarked to the oddish evolutionary line.

It won't take long until either party falls, it's anyones game right now and Gary finds himself wishing to stay longer, to see how it ends— but he can't.

Heaving a great sigh, attempting to mask his nervousness, it's with an iron will that he forces himself to part ways with such a battle, deciding to venture back towards the pokémon center to collect his friends. The fight should be over by then, and he'd rather not wish to wait in line for someone else now that he'd finally arrived and was ready.

It wouldn't be good for his sanity.

Finding his sneakers meeting harsh pavement yet again, it's with a renewed spark of determination that Gary can't help but feel optimistic about their chances. They'd practiced for almost a month, attempting to perfect everything they knew and could get their hands on, there's no reason to remain doubtful other than that he had absolutely _no_ idea what he could do anymore if he lost.

Maybe it'd be time to consult his gramps if that was the case, but that'd feel like giving up completely. He's not ready for that yet, and especially not this early into his journey. His partners hadn't failed him yet, and he was sure they would do their utmost to ensure victory. Their pride wouldn't allow them to lose.

They had both agility and defense on their side, far more than what could be considered normal at their level and that should be enough. Strategy had been gone over, tactics should some of their plans fail had been talked about, it's simply a matter of skill now.

It's on his shoulders, on his ability to direct and improvise that'll determine the outcome of this horrid battle upon them.

Gary can't say he enjoys that kind of weight looming overhead, but it's something he'll gladly take if it'll help his family evolve past simple beginners.

They're ready, he's ready.

The glass-doors slides open to the pokémon center, the odd trainer here and there strewn about the numerous different seats availible. Some faces ashen, some relieved. Gary can't help but wonder what party he'll be in once they come back.

Waiting in line for others to finish their business with Nurse Joy, it gives him some much needed time to sober up before talking, to hide his nervousness as his turn arrives— "I'd like to get my pokémon back, if they're ready,"

Nurse Joy meets his eyes for a split second before smiling, silently moving to type away at her computer as Chansey waddles up to the counter carrying a tray containing the two of his friends, "They're as good as new, Mr. Oak." It's with a kind smile that she pushes the tray forward for him.

Nodding his thanks, a relieved smile upon his features, he goes about sorting out his trainer belt in peace seeing as there's noone waiting behind him, "Good luck, by the way," the nurse continues, and it's enough for his neck to snap upright and stare at her.

A brief puzzlement overcomes her before she realizes just why he's staring at her, and it's with an awkward gesture to her computer screen that's obscured from him that she clarifies, "You have no badges, I simply assumed you're here for the gym— my apologies if that isn't the case," it's spoken with such professionalism that hadn't been there earlier, and Gary simply allows a brief, sensible chuckle to escape him.

"No, no — it's alright," he quirks his brow at the nurse on duty, "I'm just about to head over there, so thanks, it's appreciated." It's through second-nature that he flashes her a confident grin, and he can spot how the professionalism just evaporates from her frame in an instant.

"You had that look on your face, most do as they're getting ready." As if remembering something long ago, a small smile graces her features.

"That bad, huh?" It's a great way to take his mind off the coming battle, to just poke fun at something.

"I didn't say that, it's just a common thing these days," gesturing with a free hand towards the lounge area, Gary can see that she's telling the truth as he spots the numerous different trainers, "so trust me," a smile form upon her features, "you're not alone."

A quirk finds its way into his own lips, "Thanks," he really doesn't need to say more. He's not the only one with worries on this journey, stress and nerves got to everyone eventually. Maybe even Ash, but he doubts that far too optimistic guy finds anything stressful.

It's enough for a genuine smile to grace his own features as he turns for the exit, offering up a two-fingered salute over his head.

This is just the start.

Optimistic, positive thoughts run through his head, sneakers meeting pavement for the third time today as Gary finds himself trailing restlessly towards his goal for the last month.

Geodude, Onix, Graveler and Rhyhorn. At his level these are the opponent he has a chance of facing at this gym, he'd read up as much. While they're probably on-par with his two partners, it's a matter of finesse that'll determine this battle. Rhyhorn doesn't seem likely at first, neither does graveler. Combining either of them with Onix would prove to be a big hassle and it'll not only give the gym-leader a large advantage, it's also not a great way to determine their skill.

If he's understood this correctly from his old geezer, a gym-leaders job is to determine skill, a certain characteristic fit for a trainer during the battle. Their safest bet would be to assume he's going easy on them, to test the waters before going full strength. It would be ideal to attempt to knock out whatever first creature the leader would send their way quickly, giving him much lee-way in the use of both his friends against what he's certain would be the last pokémon; Onix.

Mankey is a perfect fit for their opening. Speed, agility and striking power when paired with a super-effective moveset, it'll prove to be in their favor regardless of opponent. Quick and easy, feints and fakes, it's easier to save his more defense fighter for the last battle he imagined could get quite drawn-out.

Squirtle's great aim would be sufficient enough in taking down Onix from afar, dodging any possible long-range abilities they're sure to face at first. When it comes to close-quarter combat? They'll have to improvise.

Lips thin, Gary can't say he finds the last part of his plans positive in questioning his sanity. It's needed however, they can't fight it head-on, it'll have to be improvised in the moment as a single headbutt would do more damage to Squirtle instead of the giant stone-snake. Tail whip would be a tickle.

It's difficult, but it's what they have to make do with.

A second pair of feet hitting the pavement in front of him makes itself known, brown gaze darting up from having been lost in thought, it meets with the red-brown hairdo of a particular trainer Gary can't help but find looking familiar to him.

Face ashen, fists clenched, suddenly it rings a bell and the Oak heir almost stops in his trek towards the Pewter Gym.

It's the trainer that had just battled versus that terrible Onix. Gloom, sleep-powder and the likes, it looks like it hadn't been enough given the look on the young boys face. Overpowered despite the type-advantage, Gary can't even begin to imagine how it feels.

Is this how he'll look walking back? Would he smile, take it in good stride?

Frown marring his own features, the itch to call out and stop the other trainer almost makes its way to his tongue, but he holds it, silently ghosting past without interruption. It would've been so easy, to call out, to ask how Onix had fought and how the leader had commanded his creatures, to ask for advice and tips he's sure would come in handy.

But would he, _himself_ , wish to be stopped and asked to relive your crushing loss just because someone wanted advice on how he could beat it himself?

No— no he would not. And that's why Gary finds it in himself to let the trainer go without as much of a word, not wishing to irritate such a fresh wound and possibly make it worse.

It would be cruel, harsh, unlike what he'd want if he were in that situation. Powering through, hoping to put as much of a distance between said trainer and himself as possible, it works wonders in hastening his return to the object of his frustrations.

The Pewter-City Gym.

Marble and purple tiling, it's there in all of its glory and it's almost enough to make him have second thoughts. The urge to just turn around and walk straight back to Pallet stronger than it has ever been, to just sleep in his old bed without a care in the world any longer. To wake up and run over to the corral so diligently tended to by his gramps to see as many creatures as possible.

But.

That's not him anymore, that's not the Gary Oak that'd struggled for a month to get here.

It's not the same that had given his old geezer a promise, one vocal and one silent, that he'd make him proud— to surpass him.

It's not the same that'd thrown rocks at his new friend to attempt training, to almost get his head shaved off by the fierce talons of a pidgeot.

Pushing past the noisy kids at the entrance, squabbling on about the previous battle seen with excitement he'd once had himself, Gary powers through— slamming the doors open to a mere obstacle in his way towards fulfulling his dream.

Rocks protruding up from a sandy field, a young tanned man clad in a green vest and orange shirt stands up from his rocky throne at the other edge of the battlefield.

"Who's challenging?" It's simple, to the point, no questions asked.

He'll be damned if he'd let some lousy gym-leader taint his old geezers name, to overpower the grandson of the most prestigious trainer to ever set foot upon Kanto.

A wild grin tugs at his features, "Gary Oak, from Pallet Town!"

* * *

"Gary Oak, huh?" It's said with monumentally more interest than his earlier words had been, it would seem his gramps name still ring true even after all the years he'd been retired.

Walking over the sandy field, brushing some off the numerous protruding rocks that's present just about everywhere for ideal dodging and possible Rock Throw usage along the way, "My name's Brock, and I'm the Pewter City gym-leader." Taller and older than him, it's hard not to shrink back as he stops and stands fully just in front him.

Gary doesn't back down, not even allowing fear to take root as he nods along with the older trainers words. Moving over, brushing past him as Brock heads for a small electric setup behind reinforced glass, it's with a more friendly tone in his voice that he inquires over the rapid typing of a computer, "What's your badge-level, kid?"

"Zero."

"And how many pokémon do you plan to use?"

"Two."

"Alright then," he drawls out, stretching as he withdraws two containers from his trainer belt before moving back towards him with renewed purpose, "you'll be facing my novice team."

Standing before him fully yet again, he inquires for his approval, "You okay with that?" bushy black brow quirked.

A simple nod of his head seem to be the right answer, as the older man gives him a sturdy nod of his own, "Good luck," offering up his hand to shake which the Oak heir mirrors through muscle-memory alone, a sign of good sportsmanship before Brock turns to resume his position at his end of the gym, Gary can only numbly do the same, nerves on all ends making him feel rigid. Insecure.

"Ease up!" the gym-leader calls over his back, Gary cuts his trek short at the sudden words, turning mid-way to center his gaze back at him, "It'll help, see it as a learning experience." punctuated by an encouraging smile, it's hard to not see why these gym-leaders are as respected as they are.

The Oak heir finds his shoulders with the weight he'd previously felt burdened by marginally lighter, and it's with a brief grin of his lips that he turns back to walk the last stretch to his own position, fingers itching as they're tapping away at the two cool containers hooked onto his own belt.

They're ready, he's ready.

Gary finds his gaze locked upon the referee that moves into place at the sidelines, a sign of just how official this is. It's enough to sober him up, to give him clarity that he's just to enter the toughest battle of his life.

"Leader Brock, release your first pokémon!" It's with keen eyes that the Oak heirs own brown snaps to the tanned form of his opponent, the ease of which he digs into his own trainer-belt to procure his first opponent, to open his first door towards the championship.

Throwing it up into the air, it's with a bright harsh white that his words wash forth, combatant revealed for him to see, "Your turn, Geodude!"

A roar befitting of such a creature, Geodude hovers by sheer magnetic force as it appears, battle-hardened and chipped rocky form testament to just how many battles he'd taken part of. Sharp, misty brown instantaneously lock onto him, awaiting whatever creature he'd send forth to offer it a challenge.

Gary reaffirms his grip, clutching onto his second partners container as if it were his life, the harsh reality of the situation almost blinding.

This is where it all starts, and it's with a wild grin that the Oak heir presses the release mechanism that holds his feral fighter at bay, throwing it out upon the field, it showers the scene before the two combatants in a harsh white.

A snort, an angry shriek, and it the light dies down, revealing the thick-furred and positively murderous red of his Mankey.

"Mankey, you're up." Gary finds himself calm at the sight of his combatant, the furious nature of which he stalks back and forth across the sandy battlefield, an angry snort escaping his trout with each exaggerated movement, it's his moment of revenge.

To find peace, to lay that heavy memory of a loss to rest.

"Ready?" muscles taut, frame rigid— Mankey's ears twitch at the referees voice.

Both him and Brock nod at the same time, wishing for no more than to start their battle.

A flag is waved, and the sound of a whistle blowing signals their impending fight, "Begin!"

His furry partner darts forward without even needing a command, legs picking up a maddening rythm as he knows through ardous training just how to combat a heavily defensive opponent. It's rich, enough for Gary to realise just how much of an advantage they might have.

It's simple enough to go forth with his intended tactics, to save on Mankeys strength by finishing up this battle as quickly as they can, "Get close— _Karate Chop_!" testing their opponents strength is key, however, simply running head-on will reveal much about their current defense strategy, allowing both him and Mankey some time to figure out any potential weaknesses.

His command works like a charm, both Brock and Geodude tensing as the beat of legs pumping through harsh sand makes itself audible for everyone to hear, the furious red staring straight into the Geodude's own misty brown enough to almost make the rock-type shrink backwards.

It's intentional, Gary having given his previous okay to free usage of both _Leer_ and _Screech_ , knowing that the Mankey would find good usage of them had simply been a guess however. Yet he can't help but allow a wild grin to grace his features as he realizes that furball is indeed thinking on his own now.

Unending rage replaced with centered fury, it's with a harsh voice that Brock calls out his own counter, "Geodude use Rock Th—!"

 _Screech!_

Positively jubilant delight is present in Garys own features as he covers his ears, having learned one thing and one thing only from having to handle an irritated noisy furball daily.

 _People_ are affected by insistant screeching too.

Geodude is far too late with preparing his desired Rock Throw, stumbling in haste to piece together a broken command paired with the initial confusion of one cut short to begin with only serving to quicken up the beating only a fighting-type could give.

Their opponent recovers fast however, as a furious red comes into close quarters with the burly rock-type, he offers up a quick and possibly final command— knowing just how difficult this could get for his own combatant, "Defense Curl!"

Dodging the far too sloppily thrown Rock Throw with grace and agility unparalleled in this battle, a brown-furred knuckle adopts a harsh white and it's with a swinging motion, using his entire body to give it momentum like a whip, that Mankey finds his knuckle meeting the solid metallic sheen of a Defense Curl being performed.

With a clash not too far off from his previous and numerous dances with Squirtles shell, his hardened and strengthened knuckle connects upon the jagged surface of a Geodude with such strength that the magnetic force that holds the floating rock-type mid-air flickers briefly.

Pushed back and away through sheer force, Geodude finds itself connecting with a rock protruding from the battlefield with a resounding crack, a sandy cloud picked up surrounding it to ward off any possible follow-up.

"Back off, Mankey!" It's best to play it safe, and there's nothing to suggest Brock won't use that cloud against them to form a Sandstorm to counteract both their defense and offense in the form of his furry partners agility, "You got a good hit in, simmer down and think!"

However, Mankey doesn't move at his command. And it's with his ears being greeted by the sound of harsh and heavy breathing that Gary realizes just how grave of a mistake this could be.

"Mankey, back off—!" It's no use, the training he'd beaten into his furry partners thick skull the past few weeks gone at the instinct of making up for such an overpowering loss.

Shrill screech made audible, it's with horror that his brown gaze spots his bi-pedal combatant rush head-first into the sandy cloud that's obscuring the rest of the world from his desired revenge.

It's almost eerily quiet and Gary's not quite so sure if it's in his own head or not in this chaos, words starting and dying upon his tongue constantly as he wishes to reaffirm his own instilled behaviour upon the savage fighting-type yet it'd mean disaster if he'd manage to distract his friend and another loss is recieved as a result. He'd never wish to center that amount of distrust upon himself, so Gary keeps his mouth in check, lips thin as he feels helpless at the fury holding this battle and his companion hostage.

A manic shriek is heard and his blood freezes at the sound, a grunt heard not soon after along with the sound of their earlier connecting combatants struggles ringing several times amongst the dusty mirage— "Mega Punch!" Brocks voice cuts through his own thoughts and straight into the fight between two equal strengths.

A whine, shrill and in pain, comes soaring out of the now confirmed Sandstorm, as there's no way Gary could imagine dust lingering for such periods of time. His crumpled form threwn out of the cloud, possibly smacked out by the force of a Mega Punch behind the harsh fist of a Geodude. There's no way it's as powerful as a Smack Down performed by John's graveler, however, it can't be good for his furry partners well-being.

It's a mess, this whole battle is chaos and Gary finds himself unsure if he should even attempt to order his _partn_ — shaking his head vigorously, he dispells those thoughts before they even start.

He needs to take control of the situation, _**now**_ **.**

" **Mankey!** " Gary bites out, harsh and firm. Its echo rebounding inside the large gym with clarity, carrying with it his desperate need to be heeded by his friend. This is not the time to go solo, to attempt to tackle this large obstacle by yourself— they're a team. They're family.

The Oak heir spots just how the fuzzy ears of his furry partner twitches at his voice, his downed form laying facedown upon the sand present on the battlefield. Brown gaze snaps to the quickly evaporating Sandstorm, most-likely signaling geodudes own arrival and the several devastating moves that come with it.

Sluggish in his recovery, Mankey's form looks positively exhausted as he struggles up on thin legs, none of the fire burning strong at the thought of victory had been lost, but Gary can only begin to imagine just how hard of a hit the small creature had taken. It's hard to judge if his earlier words had cut through said fire, to center him back to reality amongst the rest of them. His furry companion isn't built to combat such strong hits reliable, any amount of damage done now would only serve to increase their chances of having to face down both a Geodude and possibly an Onix with Squirtle only.

A frown plucks at his features, pondering over just how devastating of effects this could have, "Mankey? Are you listening now?" The young trainer hollers, some concern dripping into his voice yet it's barely enough to be interpreted as such.

Fuzzy ears twitch at his voice, and it's enough to know that it had reached him. It's followed by a miniscule nod of a cream-coloured frame, shaking itself free of any sand that's irritating him.

"Alright, lets take our time with thi—"

"Defense Curl!"

 _Or not._

"Fine, get close and don't let him order anything else— Low Kick!" His silent order goes without saying, screech to your hearts content. If they're able to keep Brock from reliably order his friend around, or having to cover his own ears to not only make it hard to hear Gary's own commands but having to know Mankeys moves by movement alone, it's in their favor.

Brown gaze travelling across to the Geodude standing in waiting, a metallic sheen strengthening his hard surface through artifical means washing away, it's with some momentary confusion that Gary finds himself pondering over just how much damage they really did.

Thin legs thunders across the sandy field, staying close to the numerous protruding rocks as potential cover should their floating opponent decide to return the favor at range with yet another Rock Throw ordered. They're lucky this time, not only in having their initial movements to get Mankey up to form unchallenged, but by closing the distance to where the furry fighter is the most effective. If they're wishing to wait, to allow something along the lines of a Mega Punch or any other possible close-range moves they might have, they're simply having a death-wish.

Geodude isn't build for tanking hits like a graveler is, despite its defensive nature and the numerous Defense Curls currently active, it'd still not be enough if Mankey is allowed a few seconds of pure freedom. Gary's own gaze survey the battlefield, his furry partner just about to connect with their rock-type opponent.

They're expecting it now, and Gary can already feel just how both him and Mankey tense up in possible preparation for what could either be their last attempt to dodge or clinching victory.

"Mega Punc—!"

 _Screech!_

There it is! A wild grin tugs at his lips, not even having bothered to cover his own ears, "It's slow, Mankey! Keep going, slam it down!" there's no vocal confirmation to his words yet the initiation of close quarter combat answers him, the bi-pedal fighter having to jump up with his thin legs to even reach with Low-Kick.

In their battle against the hiker a few days ago, it'd been obvious how to combat a Geodude, to have its advantage neutralized effectively by making moving awkward.

You ground them, like you would with a flying type. It had originally been improvised from just how that fearsome Machoke had grounded the pidgeot with swift and precise movements that had barely caught his eye.

While Vital Throw or even Seismic Toss could be used to achieve this naturally and with ease, it is a matter of actually reaching the Geodude that's floating for a longer period of time than two seconds.

Their method of grounding it would instead entail— Low Kick.

A strong enough force to make the magnetic force holding a geodude floating crumble must be overcome, that would mean by either psychic means or simply excuding enough force through physical attacks to knock it off course.

If they could achieve it against the hiker, they could do it against Brock. It was simply a matter of if they could achieve the required position through the barrage of Mega Punches and Smack Downs that's sure to follow should they attempt it.

It was a gamble, but there's no other way other than to attempt hit-and-run tactics. That would simply allow Geodude to keep adopting the defense nature of Defense Curl to boost his rocky frame even further.

A white force envelopes Geodudes right fist, rearing back and preparing as its misty brown gaze centers on the swift Mankey pushing off the sandy field to achieve his desired height in dealing with this pesky rock-type. It's quick, harsh and brutally effective. The dexterity which allows Mankey to swing through treetops with natural ease and expert precision is not only guided by exceptional mid-air control, it's amplified by such movements, each muscle fiber of the small fighting-types body born to wrestle in aerial battles to achieve dominance in fights.

Gary can't believe it himself, and judging by the strangled noise of Brock on the other side of the field, their opponent can't either. Harsh, lethal white barely graces the trimmed fur of a positively murderous red gaze, his frame twisting and turning with control birth-given to skim past the burly fist with such natural grace that the Oak heir can't help but feel his pulse quicken at the thought of his next move. It's with a roar, strangled and harsh against his dry throat that the young trainer orders his move yet again, " **Low Kick!** "

What goes unsaid is his own wishes and desire to see this raging feud laid to rest; **Finish it** **—** **get your revenge.**

It's with a beastial roar unfit for such a savage little creature, a screech and bellow all the same that echoes amongst the large gym, that a three-toed feet, glowing with attempting to excude as much force as possible, connects with a sickening crack upon the top of their opponents jagged frame.

A roar not far off in resemblance from John's graveler is heard, the pain he'd imagine at being wrestled out of his magnetic force, to be struck with such a super-effective move with precision just as you'd excuded your own effort into a strike that hit air. It's with a gleeful, wild edge, that Gary Oak smiles as he stands still at his side of the battlefield.

Watching such strength, he can do nothing else.

Geodude connects with solid ground, digging deep into the sand on impact as it's barely enough to contain the force of which Mankey sent him crashing downwards.

"Geodude!" It's the call of a trainer being very concerned about his own friends well-being, Brocks voice harsh against the echo of such an impact.

"Don't let him get back up, Mankey! Finish it with a Karate Chop!" There's no reason to be merciful, knocking their opponent out cleanly while they're half-way there already would only serve as a respite and give them some much needed seconds to take a breather.

The quicker this was over, the better.

Mankey darts from where he'd landed just a meter or two away from the rock-type, his knuckle digging into the sand below as it starts glow a harsh, lethal white. It's with a spring, acceleration unparalleled that he speeds across the short distance, fist raised to allow him striking power—

"Don't give up yet, Geodude! One last Mega Punch!"

Two misty, disoriented brown eyes open at his voice, and Gary feels his blood _freeze_.

"Mankey, get b—!" It's far too late to interrupt now, having commited so deep to finally finishing off their first opponent of the day, it's with severe shock that the Oak heir finds his furry friend powering through either way, both knowing that pulling back now could result in a loss should that Mega Punch even graze his exhausted friend.

It's with a roar from either party, equally strangled and harsh in the exhausted wake of their battle, that both finds themselves connecting with resounding _thuds_.

Mankeys right knuckle, powered from the Karate Chop ordered seconds ago skims past Geodudes own, striking with fearsome and desperate strength to finish the latter off quickly in hopes of finally ending this fight and allowing him to stay concious. They don't have that luxury however, as it's with his last ounces of strength that Geodude finds his glowing fist connecting with the left side of the fierce fighters frame, the smaller furred creature connecting with his own upon the same spot he'd hit his previous Low-Kick.

It's both successful and dreadful, his furry partner sent flying backwards at the force his light-weight body had been hit quite effectively struck by with the rock-types last ditch effort. Geodude is sent sprawling, rolling backwards as he looks just about unconcious on impact. There's silence reigning of their battlefield, either trainer not wishing to return their friends at the off-chance that they might rise yet again to claim victory.

Gary finds his brown gaze, filled with concern and desperation, staring straight down at his furry partner. Frame shaking, exhausted and hurt beyond his own sense of self, he can spot just how the once savage fighter attempts to claim balance over and over again. The harsh, manic breaths replaced with strangled snorts in an attempt to force oxygen to his over-worked limbs.

Words starting upon his tongue, his sore and dry throat won't let him speak his encouragement.

The Oak heir finds the courage to look over at their opponent, and Brock looks to be standing completely still, frame turned towards them and it's with renewed clarity that he finally understands.

He wants to know if he has been beaten, even by a slim margin, by the mankey that had wreaked havoc upon his rock-type.

Eyes darting to the referee, Gary finds himself grow numb. Two flags are raised, one on either side, a whistle proclaiming that the referee is about to commence his announcement of a draw, "Both pokémon are unable to ba—!"

His words stop, as does the young trainers whole world with a bewildered look.

It's harsh, heavy and none like he'd ever heard it. The snorts filled with pain, determination and a manic desire to claim victory, it's with a shaking frame, eyes bloodshot with the extreme stress of pushing his body far beyond a normal limit, that Mankey rises upon two legs and two knuckles.

Rearing backwards, trout held high. Mankey releases his strangled, guttural screech of victory.

Of _their_ victory, of _his_ revenge.

"Geodude is unable to battle! Mankey wins!" A whistle blowing to commemorate his biggest triumph, it's with a shaking and exhausted frame that his furry partner collapses yet again.

Eyes closed, breathing soft. Pride fills his gaze as Gary finds himself grabbing his second container with shaking digits. A red aura envelopes his mankey, sucking him back into comfortable stasis.

"Mankey is unable to battle," the Oak heir finds himself exclaiming through a dry throat, offering up a brief nod to the referee whom simply offers a smile in return, waving the flag to signal his decision to exclude his furry partner from further fighting.

"Well done!" comes the voice of his opponent, Brock standing with crossed arms upon his side of the sandy field, "I should've expected as much, really, gave me quite a surprise there." It's with a large grin upon his features that he looks completely satisfied with the battle that had occurred, pushing a pinky into his right ear as if to will the pain to disappear.

"Could've done without the screeching though," he offers up a brief chuckle, "Impressive strategy, if not abit unorthodox."

Feeling proud at the compliments, Gary can only supply how it had become one of the first place, "Mankey did the same to me before I captured him, if it's any condolences."

Another chuckle escapes the tanned leader, shaking his head, "It's not, I'll be feeling that for the rest of the week."

Shrugging his shoulders casually, it's with joy in his features that the young trainer speaks, "You get used to it."

"If you say so, however," It's with a cold realization of their current predicament that Gary finds his gaze glued to the second container their opponent procures from his own trainer belt, "I doubt it'll work against this one,"

Throwing the pokéball up into the air, release mechanism pushed as it opens up to allow a stone-snake of beastial proportions to materialize right in front of him in a frightening fashion, "Onix, you're up!"

With a roar enough to make Garys heart feel like it had sunk down into his stomach, the giant of a rock-type rears back, offering up a deafening sound that evaporates his previous words of getting 'used to it'.

There's no getting used to the sheer size and strength that this very being excudes by mere presence.

It'll be hard, possibly the hardest battle he'll ever have experienced for a good many more weeks to come. Simply entrusting his turtle to the monumental task of downing this giant fills his mind with unwelcoming thoughts of possible scenarios and outcomes only a battle like this could have.

They don't have a choice, however. He wouldn't wish to soil their hard work over the past month, it would be a stomp upon the hard-fought victory his furry partner had just achieved.

Squirtles tough, probably the most ideal fighter he could've trained during this past month alone, but is that really enough to combat such a beast?

It's with his expression grave, eyes filled with determination that Garys fingers itch for the first container on his trainer-belt, unhooking it and holding it firmly in his grasp.

There's no going back from this, he's tired of running from responsibility— he's better than this.

"Squirtle, you're up!" in a blinding light, his trusted companion appears as ready as the Oak heir had ever seen him. Appearing in their desired stance, ready to take aim and fire just about instantly. It's a welcoming sight, a glimmer of hope as the threat they're facing coils its body with renewed interest at seeing its opponent.

"Mankey won his, but he's out for the count," Gary shares with his partner, dark-purple turning to center itself upon him, he can only offer a brief smile of encouragement, "It's you and me against the world, bud."

A large grin appears upon the turtles far too joyous features despite the looming giant in front, offering up a stumpy arm, marginally smaller than his own, a thumb sticking up in a sign that he's just about ready for anything.

Gary mirrors his partner, grin in place; they'll overcome this together.

A whistle is blown, signaling that the referee demands attention. Brown gaze snapping over to the side-lines where both flags are raised up into the air, it's with a cough that the referee speaks up, "The challenger has the first move!" bringing both flags down in a deciding fashion, he signals the start of their final step towards his dream beginning, " Begin!"

"We've got the range on our side, Squirtle — Watergun!" there's no need to attempt to clarify directions for where they should aim, their opponent is far too large to go for precise shots at their distance, yet it's also far too large to have enough room to move such a burly and enourmous frame. Essentially, the gym is simply a prison for such large creatures, restricting both movement and possible dodging manouvers that would be a thousand times more effective out in the wild where they've been brought and honed through generations.

They've gone over it all in theory, should this situation arise. Now, it did — and they're both willing to take whatever they can get to overcome this fearsome wall.

Squirtles neck snaps in his desire to aim for the giant upper stones that make up an onix large and overpowering frame. It's an easy way to force the giant rock-snake to abide by their rules and attempt dodging, weaving and moving its upper body in restricting fashion, it's a tell-tale sign that gives both of them enough information about just how much they can attempt to predict the giant snake.

There's always the fear that it'll attempt to go underground, but given the sandy atmosphere and the general size of the field, it'll be more restricting than being above ground.

A pressurized spear of water makes its first appearance, shot with a great deal of accuracy despite the distance. There's not much an onix can do given the unnatural environment they're in, however, Gary won't do the mistake of assuming this large rock-type hasn't been trained to accomodate for such.

This attack is merely a test; to see if what he'd originally thought was correct and allowing him to build upon the strategy he'd worked up even before entering the gym.

Life isn't so kind to just allow him to be right for once, Squirtles watergun effectively finds its desired path, zooming straight to the upper echelons of boulders making up the Onix's frame, yet it's with a booming command from the strong presence behind the monster that they can't help but realize just how tough of a battle this could be.

"Deflect it!"

It's confusing at first, seeing as there's no move in his recorded knowledge of following his gramps around Kanto that an Onix may deflect such elemental moves that prove devastating to it with such ease. Stone-like tail swinging with groans of boulders grinding upon boulders, it's with surprised yet starving interest that Gary Oak finds his hard-shelled friends watergun effectively tanked and dispersed by the top of Onix's tail.

His brown gaze lights up as the knowledge is absorbed, yet he can't even begin on how to make sense of it. It's not deflecting in the traditional sense where you nullify your desired move used against you, it's a matter of using the non-vital parts of an Onix to minimize more potential damage.

Mitigation, is the word. Redirecting otherwise super-effective moves that'd deal a great chunk of damage should it hit its desired spot to their own choice of the large rock-types body. It's still effectively doing its desired damage, just not the catastrophic amounts you'd expect if it'd hit anywhere close to the Onix head or core.

Impressive, and astounding, enough for both Squirtle and him to still and wait for the painful roar of an Onix that never arrives.

"I think our guests need a wake-up call— Rock Slide!" effectively incorporating the swing of its tail that had been used to efficiently tank Squirtles watergun, it smashes it against one of the rocks protruding like a bat. Crushing the rock in its moment of contact, it sends numerous head-sized rocks flying towards his hard-shelled friend.

"Run to your left!" not allowing his determination to waver despite the feeling of panic making his pulse quicken, it's with confidence that Gary commands his companion. Simply dodging and attempting to weave through the rocks wouldn't last long with the small, albeit bulky, frame of Squirtle. Simply running, avoiding it all together, would even spare them a chance of dodging such a barrage.

They don't have the experience that Brock does in using this type of field to their advantage and it's starting to become apparent just how many battles that must've taken place here to give him such reign over the battlefield.

"Don't let up, Watergun— send it rapid-fire!" It's difficult, but they'll manage. If both Brock and Onix are conciously aware of the fact that they must mitigate their watergun shots it'll simply turn into a battle of endurance. Gary's sure that if it comes down to that, in the form of shooting and mitigating, his squirtle would win.

Super-effective moves are a force to be reckoned with if you're forced to block or otherwise tank them head-on. While it's also a possibility that Brock will attempt to order dodges and the likes, it's also something that'll force Onix out of position when it comes to swatting away more watergun projectiles with his tail.

In theory, if they manage to keep this up, the only possible damage and sustainability the Onix can achieve is deflecting and Rock Slide with a possible Rock Tomb thrown in to allow them some respite. Rock Throw could be used, but it's simply a cruder version of Rock Slide but with a more sizable object thrown their way.

It's not a very well thought-out plan, and with room for more marginal error should the Onix possess a moveset that allows it greater use with its tail, but it's the only chance he can see them having right now.

"Deflect them and use Rock Tomb!" It would seem they're cutting straight to the chase then, and it's with a grim look on his features that Gary Oak finds his hard-shelled friend encased in a blockade of boulders. They're not artificially summoned, simply having shot up from the ground due to every ground and rock-types sense for earth manipulation in a basic way. A cause of worry, certainly, but if Onix is going to attempt something at close-range, now would be the time.

There's no clear shot availible to the turtle, the small cracks present between the boulders barely enough to squeeze a projectile through let alone shoot it. Squirtle looks tense inside his prison, worry and wariness present upon his pale-blue features, their prefered method of defense just waiting upon the young trainers tongue should the gym-leader attempt what they're all expecting.

"Alright, finish this up in one go— Smack Down!"

Gary Oak feels his legs quake as the onix finally starts _moving_ , having remained stationary since entrance except for the swishing and swatting of its tail, and it's enough to make his mind feel numb at the thought of Squirtles sturdy shell holding strong against the force of _that_.

While Rock Tomb has a set duration, it's also a matter of their opponents skill in manipulating the ground to their advantage. They're not strong enough to punch through the sizable rocks with a simple watergun, trying would be a wasted in both effort and stamina they couldn't afford to lose.

This is a matter of Squirtles shells ability to handle tanking a head-on Smack Down from a giant such as Onix. Withdrawing can be done in less than a second, however, and given how rigid of a position the onix will adopt in attempting to slam down its head into the prison of Rock Tomb, maybe there's a way to actually counterattack than go for straight defense?

He'll wait with his command, hoping to anything that's out there listening that Squirtle heeds his demands should the moment arrive.

Thundering across, earth quaking with every sliver and shake of its bouldery frame, Onix snakes its body past the rocks protruding upon the battlefield as if it'd be its own frame before rearing upwards with its core, head following its line of trajectory until the giant of a beast looms its shadow above the Rock Tomb where his partner finds himself trapped.

Hands and forehead feeling positively drenched with sweat due to the stress he'd experienced in this battle and the one before, Gary finds clarity.

While it's something they always use, it has far too many possible applications in a battle where head-on collision is usually vital to end the fight; Watergun.

They'll have to chance it, as there's no way it'd be possible to dodge or not crack his shell upon the force that'll come crashing down.

"Smack Down!" It's useless to call it again, but it only serves as a reminder to both Squirtle and him that impact is imminent, the colossal head of a Onix adopting a white coat of pure energy as he starts it descent.

It's frightening, word upon his tongue wishing to leave, yet he holds it for a beat longer, wishing for the Onix to have no way of escaping their possible first real hit. Maybe the Onix powers through it and slams down either way, but it's a chance he'll have to take.

A roar of deafening quality is heard to mark the start and length of his descent, and it's with a roar of his own that Gary finds his sore and ragged voice complying with his wishes;

" **Watergun!** "

Simple, effective and deadly — it's the antithesis to every rock-type and it doesn't stop Onix descent in the least in hearing the order thrown out.

Working under stress, their training giving him clarity through grueling hours spent trying to perfect such a mindset, it's through sheer muscle-memory in a moment like this that Squirtle finds himself calm, relaxed and rearing his neck back to take aim with his favorite move.

Spouting off, it's several projectiles shot rapid-fire, a barrage of water soaring upwards in the likes of over-sized raindrops. The force of which Onix had begun his descent, head glowing a menacing white it's with a monumental cry of pure agony that the boulder-snake finds itself colliding head-first into a hail of super-effective torment.

His barrage doesn't stop, the instinctual need to simply _survive_ pushing his lungs and neck to work faster than it has ever worked before, unleashing what could only be a consistant stream of water forcefully pushed up into the awaiting face of Onix.

And it's with a great deal of relief, heart having almost sunken down to his feet, that Gary sees just how the tormented stone-snake rears backwards at the force of such a barrage greeting him at the force of which he'd descended.

The Rock Tomb effect crumbles, allowing Squirtle the free way of simply trying to _avoid_ the giant as it's with a single hit that this could be over. Remaining stationary in a way only possible with one of the squirtle evolutionary line, it's their worst option.

As much as Gary would have loved to see Squirtle continue his barrage upon the stone-snake, their opponents counter-command is imminent and it's only a matter of time before they start to come back from their surprise attack.

"Squirtle, get some distance between you two— don't stop shooting!"

Scrambling upon his own two stubby feet as his own hearing is greeted with his trainers command, it's with a shot thrown over his shoulder to distract their potential chaser that he takes off in a clumsy run towards another side of the battlefield.

It's a gamble in a sense, betting on the speed of recovery the onix can achieve and how he'll take pursuit. A risk they're forced to take, however, as there's no way they could've kept up that level of shooting for much longer, even the young turtle has his limits when it comes to actually using watergun— and Gary would like to do anything but override it.

"Dig!"

 _Oh no._

The Oak heir finds his blood freeze at the mention of what he'd dreaded this entire battle. While his earlier musings of the Onix using Dig to manuover would be awkward, if it's simply a straight line and to take up pursuit against the small but possibly noticable shifts in the sand of his squirtle running, it's an entirely different matter.

Roaring in defiance, pride most-likely wounded as equally as its body, Onix rears back its core and head before diving straight down into the earthy field below. His own playground, his own element.

There's no real way to counteract this directly other than to cope with it, earth quaking beneath their feet as the giant of a ground-type makes use of its desired way of living, they'll have to improvise when the moment comes, as there's no way Squirtle will be able to tank such a hit outside his own shell. It's a matter of timing now, when to withdraw into his shell and when to leave it. If it's anything like he'd read up on, the trade-mark decision of a creature using dig is to fling their opponents up into the air. The force of which they emerge giving them the power to throw any foe within reason long enough to allow them to prepare another move to finish them off.

Withdraw would allow them to mitigate the initial throw and possibly the landing aswell, it'll be harsh on his friend, Gary knows that— but there's no other option than tanking the hit with his shell for now.

Quakes intensifying, the speed of which they travel across the earthy field astounding as they seem to catch up with his turtle in no time. Sand moving, shaking beneath the stone-snakes ministrations, it's with renewed stress that Gary wants to wait for the opportune moment to order a withdraw for his friend.

Squirtle stops his stumbling efforts to move forward as Onix seems to have finally zeroed in on his position, the shaking of the earth becoming unbearable to stand upon as his friend seem to struggle with even attaining simple balance.

Gary understands when he's gotta give in; "Withdraw, take the hit!"

There's no hesitation as Squirtle withdraws into his armoured shell with wishes of not coming out of this as a scrambled mess. The shell shakes violently as the Onix finally seems to emerge with a deafening roar he can't imagine is too kind to the ears at his hard-shelled friends distance.

Flung high up into the air, Onix reveals the top portion of his boulder-lined body, shaking with both effort and pain at the strain of having to take so many shots head-on in its earlier mistake.

Brown gaze follows the soaring turtle, shell looking marginally more dirtied as it looks to fly straight to the middle of their field and it's with a wince that Gary finds himself looking away as said shell collides with a protruding rock upon impact.

That _can't_ have been good.

"Get up, Squirtle!" If there's any time in the world the Oak heir had wished his turtle could relax and be at ease, it's probably now. The force of which he'd struck down must've atleast done more damage than anything the onix had done to him so far.

Onix seem to almost force itself to take up pursuit again, slithering its body with noticable strain to even hold its head up. "Try for another Smack Down— make it quick!"

Stress taking hold of him tenfold, Gary Oak pushes for his voice to be heard, "Squirtle, get up and ready another Watergun!"

Harsh white forming and taking hold of the giant head of Onix, it's with renewed purpose that the boulder-snake speeds forth, intent on finishing this once and for all.

Having his voice heeded had never been more of a relief. Squirtle looking dirtied, bruised and possibly sporting what he could only call the equivalent of a black eye, his partner struggles to lift his neck into position as he finally stands on his two stubby legs.

This is the last move of their match, Gary just knows it.

It would seem Squirtle does aswell, as it's with an almost relaxed state of his frame that he rights his neck into position, staring straight up for what they're both expecting; Smack Down.

It arrives, in its full and frightening glory, the looming shadow of Onix's head thunders into vision for the turtle. Rearing its core backwards, using every ounce of strength it could possibly have left, it begins its descent with its most critical error yet.

Roaring mightily, a deafening quality that his squirtle does not even budge at, it's with momentary clarity that both Gary and him find their option of finishing this up once and for all.

" **Wa** —" hooked mouth already spouting off their desired weapon of choice,"— **tergun straight into its mouth!** " into the gaping maw of the fearsome giant.

With a cry that should not even be possible, Onix rears back in _pure_ agony as its insides are washed down with the super-effective element that its kind dreads. It's almost a howl with the frightening quality of its roar, how the boulder-like snake starts to shake and swing its frame as the torment is inescapable. Inside of its own body, there's nothing you can do to halt the damage.

"Onix!" It's concern in the form of a booming voice that carries across the gym that Brock makes his distress known, and it's with a resigned fate of possibly more than a week of pokémon center visits that the gym-leader raises his trusty companions container, returning him into comfortable stasis with a bright red beam where the pain no longer bothers him.

Air heavy, it's with a brief smile of his tanned features that Brock hooks the ball upon his trainer-belt, offering up a nod to the referee, "Onix is unable to battle!"

Flag waved their way, the Oak heir looks on in bewildered shock as he hears the words; "Squirtle wins!"

Adrenaline flowing through his veins, it's with pure unbridled joy that Gary finds himself sprinting across the ruined field without a care in the world— simply wishing for nothing else than to crush his injured friend with a hug he couldn't care less about anyone seeing.

Squirtle won.

 _They_ won.

He's still in a sane enough mind to not attempt to lift his partner in his current state, so when his dirtied sneakers reaches his hard-shelled friend, he simply crouches down with a big grin upon his features; "You did it!"

It's with a cry of determination, wavering in his exhaustion, that Squirtle confirms his words. Positively jubilant delight present in the pale-blue of his partners features.

Laughter bubbles up with ease, masking the steps of their opponent walking up to them with purpose, "Congratulations," the steady voice of Brock making Gary turn his head towards the gym-leader, "I'm impressed, enough to have probably given you the badge if that last ditch effort had succeeded," honest words pour forth from their former opponents lips and it's enough to make him feel humbled.

Extending his hand, offering up a shake for a hard-fought battle, Gary Oak simply replies with, "I hope Onix recovers quickly, and thanks."

A chuckle escapes Brock as he meets his grip with the young trainers own, shaking it once before releasing, "I'm sure he'll recover just fine, if anything it'll be a good lesson for him."

Squirtle tugs at the leg of jeans, obviously wishing to return into his container and make the pain and discomfort he's surely experiencing disappear. Brown gaze travelling down to his partner, the young trainer procures his first container yet again and offers up his words along with a beam of red, "You did great, bud."

Sucked back into comfortable stasis, Gary looks towards Brock once more and it's with interest that he finds said leader digging into his green vests pockets. Finding his desired item, he holds it up with his palm towards the Oak heir.

"This is the Boulder Badge," It's through second nature that Gary finds his eyes glued to the small item, "It's proof that you've both showed and accomplished to adopt the traits I'm obligated to teach,"

"Tenacity, determination, you've got them both in spades, kid." A quirk of the leaders lips makes itself known as he pushes the badge forward, offering it up, "You'll go far."

Plucking the badge from the other mans hand feels almost sacred, and he can't help but stare down at the tiny symbol signaling his victory here at the Pewter gym.

Their victory.

"I'll try not to disappoint."

A firm nod of the leaders head signals his dismissal and Gary can't help but feel numb as he finds his himself travelling across the gym back to the entrance he'd arrived from.

There are no kids waiting outside when the rays of a Kanto summer beats down on him for the first time in a few hours, the shade of the gym offering no protection as he simply basks in the wake of a victory hard-fought.

There had been no disappointments, there had been no crucial mistakes. All three of them had given it their all and they'd come out on top because of it.

The sound of pavement meeting his sneakers greets him for the first time in a good while and it's a sobering enough effect to allow a genuine smile to grace his features momentarily.

He'd probably need to stay for a few days to make sure his partners were fully recovered before attempting any kind of further training, but he'll deal with it. There's nothing that could ruin his cheery mood after such a battle, and it's simply a chance for him to sleep in a bed for once.

Today was a good day.

* * *

 **Releasing this a week earlier than intended. Mostly because I wish to see if there's any interest now that a few more chapters have been written.**

 **Thank you for the kind response so far.**


	5. Hurdles

**Rival**

* * *

"What are you looking to buy, kid?"

"Anything for survival, I'm heading to Mt. Moon today."

A low whistle is performed by the store clerk, the Pewter City item mart he finds himself in bustling with different kinds of people going about their everyday lives.

"Well, if you're going into that horrible cave I can only recommend to start with the easy and essential items you'll need," It's with a more paternal smile that the man signals for one of the shop aides to retrieve some items from their storage.

Gary can't help but wonder if this is a common occurance in Pewter, each year there's new trainers, he's aware of that much atleast. Do they all go through Mt. Moon this early? Is that why this store is practically filled to the brim with different types of survival gear?

The mart clerk brings his thoughts back to the present, dumping several meters of thick rope on the counter before them, "A few meters will come in handy. I've been in there myself, nasty ledges and you can't be too careful."

"Thanks," price isn't an issue, his winnings and the sum his gramps had offered him more than enough to cover him for a few more weeks, this is simply a matter of ensuring he makes it through to Cerulean, "Anything else?"

The old man rubs his stubbled and grayed chin in thought, a brief hum escaping his lips as he reaches under the counter for whatever item he had in mind, "Flashlights, can't have too many."

Gary nods, he knows just how crucial light is inside that horrible cave during his brief visit with his old geezer. He'd never seen anything more than shadows lurking on the walls, but the sounds had kept him on edge despite the fierce protection he had on his side.

"How many?" Brown gaze snapping up from the single flashlight the old man had put on the counter to his face, frowning.

"Now that's a tough one to answer, but going by how many we usually sell for the trainers going through that cave? Four."

"I'll take four then, with extra batteries." You can never be too prepared, and he's not about to start making mistakes when they've started out strong.

Chuckling, the aged clerk reaches under the counter and procures three more flashlights along with four more batteries, "Smart kid, anything else you have in mind?"

His old gramps had always taught him the value of preserved food, for times when they can't start a fire or simply don't have enough time to take a breather and remain stationary. Dried food was essential inside that cave, preferably something that most of the local wildlife doesn't feast on aswell.

"Got any dried tauros jerky?" It's a simple question, with an equally simple answer.

"Sure do, how much you want kid?" he replies.

"Enough to last me half a week?" Gary can't help but ask it in a questioning manner, for he can't ever recall his gramps teaching him about the amount that's needed for the cave. However, given his recent advice from the old geezer Gary could expect about five days or even a week inside that cave if he's willing to reach Cerulean.

"Hrm, how about two kilos?" the clerk inquires, bushy brow quirked in thought.

"Sounds good," It's alot, but given how long he'd be inside that cave and how his normally packed food will spoil a few days in? It's probably needed, "Add about ten potions and three antidotes for standard poisoning, along with a few bottles of drinking water."

The only local wildlife inside that cave that would be interested in the dried jerky would probably be zubats and their evolutions, but given how he'd stocked up on flashlights it wasn't likely to become a problem. Poisoning could become a problem however, but then again it's the same evolutionary line that's are capable of doing it, same counter-measures applied to it aswell.

Murmuring under his breath, the aged clerk reaches for his right, unhooking a dozen potions along with a few store-brand bottles of water and settling them down by the pile that's steadily increasing, adding the three antidotes for good measure, "Anything else?"

"Should be all." Gary offers up a relieved nod, having gone over this shopping list numerous times inside his head during the days he'd been forced to wait for his two partners to heal up fully.

"That'll be about.. eight-hundred bucks, young man."

Blinking once, Gary simply digs into his wallet with his face neutral, procuring the bills needed and placing them in the awaiting grip of the store clerk.

Ushering down all of his items in a plastic bag that looks to be just a few minutes away from cracking at the weight, he offers it up to the young trainer with a bright smile.

"Thank you for shopping at the Pewter City item mart, and good luck!"

Paying no mind to his screaming wallet, Gary offers up a brief smile in return before shouldering the plastic bag and heading out of the store with relief.

* * *

With the sun beating down harshly upon them, the heat of a Kanto summer greeting his first journey away from the three cities he grew up around, Gary Oak finds himself travelling along the route leading up to his next challenge with his partners.

"We'll be heading to Mt. Moon next, you two."

Two pairs of eyes glue themselves to him, their necks craning themselves upwards amidst their trek, listening in.

"I'll repeat it if I have to, but we'll need to work as a team if we're ever gonna have a chance to reach the other side." Perhaps it's unfair to demand it right away, but their survival was at stake, any minimal missteps inside that horrible cave system could spell doom for them all.

"That means no squabbling or whining, you'll be fighting together for the next week or so and I'd rather not have to the two of you trying to one-up the other out of pride."

Gary centers a brief, meaningful glance down at the both of them, "Understood?"

Squirtle, stumbling along on his stumpy legs next to the two more agile personas simply offers up a brief nod of his confined neck, dark-purple latching onto his own brown with promise. The young trainer only nods in return, centering his attention to their next family member.

Turning his head towards fierce red, Gary simply quirks his brow down at the furry menace that's hobbling along beside him on his pair of knuckles, whole frame turning to look up at his trainer.

A derisive snort, filled with the pride and stubborness he'd come to expect out his furry partner is heard.

It's enough for now. But if it goes out of hand, which Gary is sure it eventually will, he'll really have to set his foot down for once. This wasn't just training or a simple battle, it was a test to see if they'd make it out there in the wild amongst all the other trainers.

And he'd rather not fail, for it'd mean more than just wounded pride.

Lips thin, Gary nods down at the Mankey, centering his gaze forward before speaking, "It'll take five days, at least, to reach Cerulean. That means we're going to spend all of our time inside that cave and that means being on guard at all times," Gary starts.

Frowning before continuing, scratching away at his brown locks in deep thought, "Anything that moves and looks to be headed in our direction? Knock it out, no waiting for my command if you spot it first."

A grunt and snort is heard, "We've got the type-advantage over everything but zubats once inside, remember that and we'll do fine, and Squirtle?" Gary trails off, looking down at his hard-shelled friend.

Dark-purple slowly turn themselves upwards and looks at him, waiting, "I want you on zubat duty incase we run into a flock, you'll be the most effective in dealing with them at range, alright?"

The small turtle nods his pale-blue head, understanding his position given their current lineup.

"And Mankey?"

A whirr of fur, his frame tilting itself upwards as he hobbles along next to his trainer, fierce red centers itself on him, "You're going to be protecting both of us," a languid snort is made audible, "Anything that comes close to anyone of our group on the ground you'll send back, understood?"

Gary can see just how the furry menace fierce red briefly snaps to their turtle companion, as if asking him if it really entails protecting his rival aswell, "Yes, including Squirtle— _understood?_ "

Almost desperate to have his words heeded, he merely stares down the more defiant member of their small family, brow quirked as if daring the mankey to refuse his order this time.

And it's with a brief, miniscule smile that Gary finds his ears greeted with a brief and low snort of discontenting but begrudging acceptance.

"Cheers, furball."

He finds his thoughts drifting away to precarious territory. Mostly travelling towards the looming obstacle ahead as quiet once again reigns over their little group, the brief but low chatter of his two companions serving as nothing else but background noise.

He'd called his gramps yesterday evening, mostly to get some last-minute tuning to his already fleshed out plans of making it to Cerulean. But also to get some much needed advice on just how to tackle this cumbersome task they've got in store for them.

And his old geezer certainly hadn't minced his words in describing just how difficult of an undertaking this will be.

While the good news had been that with his gramps old route, the one he'd always took during his expeditions to that horrible cave system, would allow them to progress smoothly through the cave within just four or five days, there were some obvious downsides to it aswell..

Such a swift passage wouldn't be without its trials and numerous hotspots for local wildlife herds. Converging into the numerous cliffs and ledges, and you have yourself just a week filled with trouble that'll result in more than just a bruised ego.

His gramps voice pushes itself to the forefront of his thoughts;

' _Don't rush into any battles if you can help it, save your strength for the tasks that matters— your survival.'_

' _Capturing a pokémon should never take priority of your current rosters well-being, a newly captured creature without budding trust won't help you survive in its natural habitat._ '

' _Keep your eyes peeled, your ears alert and your feet light— don't stop moving for much longer than few hours at a time to sleep._ '

It's all general advice, but Gary knows his elder better than to merely accept it as such. It speaks clearly about just how terrifying the deeper levels, some they'd have to traverse through, could be. Echoes of haunting sounds, rocks grinding on rocks along with the quakes he can remember as if it'd been yesterday, Gary holds no lost love for Mt. Moon.

Where his gramps and the beasts he wielded with ease went inside that ominous cave, he'd stayed behind to listen to the haunting howls of agony that followed in their wake.

It'll be difficult without such giants protecting him, keeping him out of harm with their decades of experience. Used to colossal fights of brute strength and power, his team can't hope to match their survival prowess one bit.

Gary finds himself gnawing on his bottom lip, immersed within his thoughts — fists clenched.

They'll power through, his companions, like they always have. He trusts them, more than anyone— more than himself. This is a mere obstacle to his goal, a measly step to prove their worth to the world that the Oak name won't die with his old geezer.

He's no cowa—

A tug of his jeans is performed, his nervous mood crashing down as if it'd never been there to begin with. With a cool breath escaping between his lips, Gary Oak flicks his gaze to his hard-shelled partner.

"What's up?"

Squirtle barely has time to try and get his point across before his sneakers meet with the soft grass of wilderness— along with a terribly nasal voice that grates his ears like there's no tomorrow.

"You there!"

It's more out of reflex that he winces at such a horrible sound, the urge to clutch his ears in pain overwhelming but he stomps it down with a drawn-out sigh.

Allowing his ears a brief second of recovery, cursing whatever legends he can think of, Gary turns to face their intruder with an expression of pure boredom.

"Yes?" Brow quirked in an inquiring manner, Gary can't help but sound terribly exasperated at their current predicament. His logical mind informing him that a battle would be risky considering just where they're heading, injuries and what-not would only serve to slow them down.

While it could be argued that the normal route through Mt. Moon would have a pokémon center, they're not travelling that far north.

Yes, a battle would be troublesome indeed. Turning his head to give their potential opponent a once-over now that he's got a better look at their intruder, it's clear he's facing down a girl if he's judging solely by their skirt. Not that it'll matter, but he can't help but ponder how terrible it must be to run around in these flourishing wilds without pants, including just how inconvenient it'd be to flee in.

If it gets stuck on a branch as a rabid pack of rhyhorn gallop after you, well— you're gone.

Not that he'd tell her, it'd be rude.

Brown gaze blinking once to reaffirm his position in reality, he looks back to their blonde intruder as she opens her mouth, hopefully in a calmer tone than before, Gary turns to face her directly, seeing as this will probably take awhile.

"You're a trainer, right?" It's not a question, dear Arceus he hopes it's not a question.

Sending a pointed look down at his fellow travelling companions, his squirtle cocking his head to the right in his puzzlement, equally as unsure of their intruders words. Gary can almost feel laughter bubbling up as his partner looks up at him for guidance.

The young trainer can only shrug, his sharp gaze snapping to their potential opponent with some more renewed interest despite the reprecussions this could have.

He'd never say no to a battle if he's challenged if he could avoid it despite his previous thoughts. He's a competitior at heart, maybe a detour would be worth it now that the situation had risen. Better accept now before the more sane part of his mind has a chance to insist that it's a foolish move on to go through with it.

"I am," Gary drawls, looking on in brief puzzlement before vocalizing his continuation; "Why?"

It comes in the form of ear-piercing bravado, "Then I challenge you to a one-on-one!"

Striking a pose that's awfully reminiscent of those he'd seen on television, contests in particular, she continues, "Right here and now!"

Furrowing his brow, turning to survey the grassy field around them, it's perfect for a little scuffle. There's no reason to object.

"Sure," nodding his head, mostly at his own thoughts, Gary offers a lazy wave of his hand towards the other side of the field, "Move up, we'll need the space."

Walking onwards to his side of the field, Gary simply ghosts past her with practiced boredom as his partners in turn look to be positively delighted at this turn of events. Mankey's tail swishing erratically as he hobbles along with more haste, his turtle bumbling along on joyous steps.

Blinking once, their opponent looks stunned at the easy acceptance of her bold challenge, opening her mouth only to close it before giving him a determined nod in turn. Turning briskly on her sandals, the blonde girl hurries along to her own side of the makeshift battlefield.

It's a stage set, both trainers on their respective sides as the girl looks to be completely on edge compared to his cool facade. While it's irritating to offer someone simple curtesy, it'd do no good if their opponents nerves gets the better of them and this turn into a terribly quick battle.

It'd be no fun either, to be fair. Mumbling something unheard, Garys brown eyes flicks to their opponent, offering up a mere nod before his words come forth,

"Got a name?"

Their opponents face jerks up to look at him fully, nodding along dumbly before fumbling with her words, "J-Jane!" It's almost with as an afterthought that her continuation is spoken with haste, "And you?"

"Gary," the young trainer provides, offering a courteous smile brought on by his gramps need to hammer manners into him, it gives way for a wilder grin at his next words easily, "and this guy here is Mankey."

Beckoning his bi-pedal fighter forward, it's with positively jubilant delight that his second partner hops into position, tail swishing in irregular patterns as the ferocious bundle of savagery stands up on his rear legs as he moves in front of his trainer, ever the eager battler.

A shriek of challenge, a swish of his brown-furred tail and a menacing red positively glowing murder is aimed at their opponent.

It almost makes him proud.

A new kind of wariness seem to take hold of their opponent, baby-blue eyes staring straight at Mankey before reaching down for her own trainer belt, clutching the second sphere notched upon it before hurling it high up in the air.

"Jigglypuff, your time to shine!"

The wild edge of Garys grin only grows, and it's with barely restrained glee that he murmurs to his hard-shelled friend, "Cover your ears, bud." This would be a good time to test his theory, and Gary's quite certain he's correct on this one.

Vital Spirit.

His turtles confined neck cranes itself to peer up at him with his vibrant purple before nodding slowly with a childish grin, allowing himself to lay down upon his softer belly before reaching up to cover his hearing as per instruction.

Nodding his approval, Gary looks over to their opponent before hollering, "You got the first move!"

It's mirrored by their intruder, the jigglypuff that'd previously been completely still wiggles its ears as the first syllable reaches them, prematurely opening its small mouth as if knowing their initial strategy by heart already, "Jigglypuff, sing to your hearts content!"

Mouth open, the sweet notes of _Sing_ starts to waltz forth across the clearing, carrying with it promises of sweet sleep and relentless beatings should it be effective in disarming its enemy of their conciousness.

That is, if their opponent hadn't been Mankey.

Covering his own ears, Gary Oak finds himself almost pitying the poor pink ball that's about to have a reality check, "Don't mind it— start with a Karate Chop!"

Mankeys had been born for speed, flexibility, and most of all to chase across treetops. Leaping with grace that's both unnatural and unnerving. This is nothing like it yet equally terrifying should you be its prey.

Sing does not affect those whom possess the spirit to simply just _hunt_ without rest.

Thundering across, knuckles digging into the soil beneath with each grip as the furry menace legs kicks it up in his acceleration, his target simply oblivious to the danger that's heading its way— immersed within its performance.

Jane's eyes flickers with genuine fear as the realization hits home, her own ears covered as baby-blue meets with vicious red.

Even so, Gary can't help but ponder during these brief seconds just why she's holding her tongue as she takes note of the lurking threat that's about to spring up and cut-off her creatures performance with a beating he's sure he himself will have to put a stop to.

It makes him wary, more than the young trainer feels he should be. Brown gaze snapping to their opponents features, he notes just how she's not paying any attention to him, his own next move and it's enough to make the young trainer realize the potential.

Sucking in air, hoping his words will carry across the deafening sound of song, Gary hollers their next course of action to his mid-sprint furry partner, "They'll try to counterattack when you're in range, don't fall for it!"

There's no way he can trust his eyes to see if the speeding demon of his roster has heard his advice, it's simply a matter of trust between trainer and fighter.

Grass kicked up as Mankey nears his destination, it's with bated breath that Gary spots just how his second partners right knuckle imbues itself with the lethal white energy of their chosen move. It's with pure confidence that he tears his gaze away from the scene at hand, focusing hard on their opponents features as he can spot the severe nervousness just radiating from her frame, and it's with a bellow of his own that he counters her words as she opens her mouth to reaffirm their would-be counter.

"Float back— Pound!"

"Now, Mankey!"

Fierce red spots just how his opponents large blue eyes reveals clarity, song halted with ease and grace as the pink ball almost seems to float backwards, its short stump of a limb starting to imbue itself with a sharp grey energy, its frame disengaging from Mankeys own.

A snort of pride, it punctuates the force the small furball excudes in pushing off the ground with his three-toed feet, however it's not just to follow up on their opponents movement, it's to _predict_ it.

Jigglypuff are not called the balloon pokémon for nothing. If they expand, sucking in the oxygen needed to float away, it carries with it several risk including being brought off path by wind and other necessary factors. This means with enough forceful air pushed their way, you can alter their course mid-air.

Gary finds clarity as he drops his hands, and he finds himself grinning wide, "Mankey, swing at Jigglypuff!"

Keep it airborne, keep it floating and you can just keep going with your attacks. There's no chance of escaping, even releasing the air would cause jigglypuff to drop aimlessly to the ground, giving plenty of room to simply charge it mid-air where it's defenseless.

It's also unable to sing, not that it'd matter now though.

Mankeys ears twitch, his trainers command more than puzzling to him yet he finds himself following it without hesitation now. Opponent out of range for his Karate Chop, Mankey swings air.

It's _very_ effective, going according to his improvised plan beautifully as it pushes jigglypuff far back and higher up in the air, the force of the fighting-type move enough to alter their opponents altitude as the pink ball can't seem to end its floating spree.

Clarity dawns upon all present in the clearing, fear present in baby-blue and triumph in brown.

His bi-pedal fighter, shrieking with the joyous thought that he _finally_ gets to play around with his opponent, chases their floating enemy down like a rabid growlithe after its new toy. It'd almost be humorous if wasn't a haunting picture of just how efficient these creatures can be, will be, with the right training.

"Jigglypuff, uhm— Defense Curl!"

The pink balloon pokémon finds itself shining a deep grey as it allows itself to greedily bolsters its weak defenses mid-air, increasing the density of its exterior at the thought of becoming victim to the heavy-knuckled strikes that's sure to await it when it finally manages to land.

However it's with a sinking, quite literally, realization that all parties involved notice just how jigglypuff seems to almost.. _drop_ in altitude. Gary blinks once, twice, trying to rid himself of the sight that he's quite certain he's seeing. The familiar feeling of a pit in his stomach clenching as he remembers all the other times he'd been made privy to knowledge like this. Deflections, counters and fake-outs, this is just like that.

This could either go very bad, or simply not affect them at all. Gary isn't quite so confident on just where it'll go.

Both delight and joy present themselves in Jane's features, ordering the same move again and again, "Defense Curl as much as you can until you hit the ground, Jigglypuff!"

Gary stills at the command, his mind already working overtime as he ponders over the reprecussions this could have, while it's an interesting tactic that he's sure he'll keep with him through the rest of their journey, isn't this only just a quick way down to the looming monster beneath?

Brown gaze flicking down towards his furry menace, fierce red drinking in the sight of his pink opponent floating overheard with frightening focus. He's aware of just how bad this could go, but even with several defense curls this shouldn't be that much of an issue when they've got both speed, strength and stamina on their side this time.

It's inevitable, and the pit in his stomach lessens at these new revelations. While Gary's sure this could mean that they're in for a more prolonged scuffle, it doesn't change the end result other than that jigglypuff might get some cheapshots in.

And that's his worry right now, with the prospects of entering Mt. Moon today they can't afford to be either hurt or exhausted. He's confident in his second partners stamina, however Mankey has always been prone to rush head-on, catching scrapes and bruises due to his raw instincts to simply pursue and attack.

They need to end this now, "Don't let them get any more moves in, jump and finish this with Low Kick!"

Jigglypuffs large blue eyes widen even further as its opponents fierce red rushes to the ground below it with unnerving grace and fervor, digging three-toed feet into the loose soil beneath. And then it _begins_ , a low snarl born from the predators it'd face in the wild, unaffected by its most basic defenses. It is nature, unrelenting and merciless.

Mankey kicks off the ground, strong limbs pushing to reach the height satisfactory next to the floating pink creature, right leg already shining with lethal white as burning red informs the helpless creature of just how much this will hurt.

"Pound!" It's useless, they all know it, but the jigglypuff attempts it anyways, rearing its stubby limb backwards as it gathers the energy necessary to muster up a possible defence.

Gary looks on with pride, his savage fighter altering his frame mid-air before cracking his right leg like a whip towards their opponents core.

Bright light shines as the force of nature that is Low-Kick connects with their opponents Pound, the shockwave of these elemental creatures engaging with such intensity only amplified by the environment that groans under such pressures. Wind picking up a myriad of different colours, treetops rustling with the force of impact.

The Oak heir allows his eyes to fall shut, not minding the bright lights as he simply basks in it, grinning wide as he knows just what and who will come out on top.

In a battle of power and speed, there's always a clear victor here.

As a thud hits the ground, his sharp brown gaze opens to reveal his own predictions. It's with fondness, pride and a sense of accomplishment that Gary Oak finds himself staring at his heavily breathing fighting-type, the one that never relents.

He can't spot their opponents creature, yet it's obvious where it struck down, the tiny little crater it's buried in a clear giveaway. Most likely due to the reinforced skin of the numerous defense curls perfo—

"Jigglypuff, you can do it!"

Blinking once, twice, certain he'd imagined it— said brown gaze latches onto to their female opponents desperate pleas.

Stubborness, pride and fondness gushing forth from her gaze, it's alike the one he'd given his own furry partner yet more somber and desperate, her haughty attitude gone.

Gary understands, he really does. His own partner, buried in a crater where he'd been thoroughly bested, it's a picture he's ingrained into his own retina ever since. He remembers wanting to yell, plead and tell him to rise and continue.

So he lets them be, ordering his next course of action out of consideration, "Mankey, hold off for abit, let them rise and if they do, you're free to continue." It's not the safest thing, especially for the health of the jigglypuff in question, but he's almost desperate to give another the chance he hadn't given himself.

"Come on, you can stand up!"

This is the side of battling that he despises, yet it's also what gives it the thrill. He doesn't want to be on the desperate, pleading side where he gets to see his friends get pummeled.

So he trains, he pushes them all so they'll never have to experience it again.

It's with a long, shaking sigh that their opponent unclasps the spherical device from her own trainer belt, murmuring some quick words of gratitude before encasing the contents of the crater in a bright red light, sucked back into comfortable stasis.

There's no need to offer up any words, exclaiming his victory to gloat or otherwise, it had been a brief but eventful battle, one Gary is certain he'll remember for a long time to come. Pushing his index finger and thumb into his mouth, he whistles to get his still amped up fighting-types attention.

Whirring around, fur standing on edge from their previous clash, furious red bores into his own brown with taut muscles and rigid frame before going still, offering a rare blink—snorting up at his trainer as he begins to hobble towards him.

Cracking a brief, meaningful smile, Gary only offers up credit where credit is due as he squats down, "You did well, cheers for listening furball." It's replaced with his usual grin, reaching forward and rustling the fur atop his mankeys dome, the creature in question taking it with its usual stoicness.

Rising with purpose once more, the young trainer runs a hand through his wild brown locks, feeling the lingering shaggyness of a particular encounter with a slight grimance. Centering a brief meaningful glance down at his two partners, he speaks up, "Come on you two, lets go get it over with."

Taking in the scene between them with more detail as he wanders through their former battlefield with a content smile, he arrives at his destination quickly.

Jane looks up at him, frowning, only looking down as he offers up a hand for a battle well-fought, "It was a good one," the young trainer comments, a mere sliver of a smile present on his features.

Said baby-blue gaze looks up at him as if gauging if he truly meant what he had said, before resigning with a huff of her breath, grabbing his hand before shaking it once, "I'll beat you, uhm," the blonde ponders briefly before offering him a sparkling smile as she nods,"Yes, I'll beat you next time, be prepared!"

Gary simply blinks once in stunned silence before dipping his head briefly in acknowledgment of the challenge, "Already looking forward to it."

It doesn't take long, both murmuring their farewells before setting off once again on their respective paths, one filled with pokémon centers and warmth, the other with cold dread and chilling caves.

* * *

They've been trekking for hours now, his pack starting to feel heavy and the sweat he's experiencing from the humidity isn't doing him any favors.

Even so, Gary Oak finds himself diligently paving a path towards their goal for today, Mt. Moon. He's been extra careful in following the map he'd recieved in his pokédex from his old geezer, tentatively making sure they're not getting lost or going off track.

As his gramps had explained it, they'd simply have to move a few rocks to get to their old entrance to the cave, but the trouble would be to just find those boulders through the thick wilderness that covers just about this whole route. It wouldn't really be any difficult to camp outside tonight, but Gary can't help but feel he'd be too nervous about sleeping when the prospect of morning comes with the realization that he'd have to enter Mt. Moon.

It's better to get it over with, power through and deal with the consequences then.

Not the best advice he could've given to himself, but it's the easiest one on his sanity as of right now. He's still questioning it by going through this whole ordeal, but it's a start.

And while his partners aren't making their protests known yet, he's certain they'll show when they finally enter that damnable cave. It's not easy on anyone, especially to those creatures unaccustomed to such climates.

Speaking of his partners, they've been diligently following him for the past few hours, he'd not heard a single complaint as they'd been forced to traverse off-trail for the last portion of those hours. And while his furball is skipping through the numerous trees around them, his little turtle is struggling with the girthy tree-roots and branches that's present just about everywhere.

Offering the spot above his backpack was out of the question though, he'd need all the stamina he could use once they enter. Gary's not planning on stopping once inside despite his fears.

Pushing his gaze to the treelines, Gary spots just how close they actually are to the mountain itself, most-likely barely a few twenty minutes of good walking before they're at their destination.

He wants to shake all of this off, all the insecurities, yet he can't help but allow his mind to travel back to when he'd visisted with his old geezer. He'd never call it the most frightening night of his life, not at all— but the _sounds_ had barely given him any sleep.

Age was probably the most likely factor of his fear, ofcourse, the shadows of the unknown and that's what frightened him. And now? He's walking straight back into that awful place with awful memories willingly.

Cracking a brief smile despite his thoughts, Gary spots the thin dirt trail he'd been looking for on his map, the rush of success pushing his fears backwards once again as he finds himself on the trail that'll take him straight to their coming weeks home.

Now, what's on the menu when it comes to creatures he could capture? It's a more pleasant subject, and while his gramps advice of not bothering to capture anything was screaming in his head, it's fun to speculate.

Zubats, geodudes, clefairys and sandshrews. It's a nice mixed bag of typings he's sorely missing when it comes rounding out his small roster.

And while capturing a geodude would be great, they're certainly capable fighters as his previous battles has shown him numerous times, it's probably best to forget that idea entirely due to his furballs apparent hatred of the species ever since his loss.

Still, a golem? How amazing would it be to train one? Magnitude, earthquake, rock tomb and rollout. The mere thought of these moves makes the young trainer quiver in anticipation.

To think about one day wielding such destructive powers in battle, it seems to far off. A blastoise can learn to utilize earthquake, he knows that perfectly well by now, yet Gary's not dumb enough to attempt to pressure his buddy to evolve so fast, not only would it wreak havoc on their developing bond, but also the hormonal imbalances would cause his personality to not remain as bubbly and delightful as it should be.

He'd lose his friend, and not even _he_ would do that that for a quick exchange of power.

There's several creatures that's capable of all these moves naturally inside that horrible cave however, including the numerous sandshrews that like to burrow and hide within the rocky facade.

Seeing one, however? Not a chance unless he'd wish to take a day off and hunt for one, and while it'd be wonderful to have one on his team, he'd rather not risk to stray off path. It puts quite an effective stop on those plans before they've even begun.

He'd never want that, not in a million years. Onto the next one then, Clefairy, now there's a conundrum if Gary's ever had one.

It's almost a mix of jigglypuff and the likes of the nidoran line. Jigglypuff in its use of singing and the numerous tricks and moves only they can aquire through tough and ardous training, and the nidoran line due to the nature of their evolutions and overall sturdiness.

The mere thought that he'd someday have to return and find a moon stone of all things, which is just about impossible unless he'd want to spend _weeks_ searching, most likely down at the bottom floors, is enough to make Gary steer clear of any kind of clefairy for the foreseeable future though.

Anything but Mt. Moon, really.

Zubats, then?

Whilst zubats would prove to not only give him an aerial battler, its also got a heavy choice of moves when it comes to poison— something he hasn't even been able to train against yet. It's lucrative, very much so. Especially when it comes to training them all to withstand aerial attacks, it's also something that'd incorporate greatly with the their daily dodging rutines.

Target practice for Squirtle, evasive manouvers with whatever flying creature he'd capture and double down on the dodge training for Mankey. He can just visualize the added benefits.

Those types of training could be aquired quite easily though, now that he gets some time to think it over.

If he'd force himself to scout out the numerous flocks of spearow and pidgey, he could potentially find a suitable partner there. It wouldn't be difficult, they're just about as common as grass. But, does he really want to capture one of either species after his run-in with the pidgeot and machoke?

Digging into his brown locks, Gary ponders his sanity in even considering it.

There's also the question of if he'd be as lucky as he was with both Squirtle and Mankey. Both have warmed up to him, the latter mostly against his will but he'd never _not_ listened to him when it really mattered.

It's frustrating, infuriatingly so. Heaving a great sigh, knowing that he _really_ can't stop and capture any of them makes this whole theorycrafting useless anyways, but it's what fuels his brain in times of turmoil.

A meek cry of his hard-shelled partner rouses him out of his thoughts, his gaze sharp as it flicks down to the tiny turtle with an inquiring quality.

Purple eyes shine with apparent glee as he holds up a stumpy arm, slender blue finger pointing down the thin dirt-trail they've covered while he's been in aimless pondering. Gary follows his line of sight wordlessly, feeling his eyes widen marginally as he spots their goal.

It's not quite so large as he remembers it, but it's definately the same boulder he remembers gramps old machamp push away as if it'd been mere pest. Estimating it to reach a little above his mid-section, it's no wonder a fully evolved fighting-type would be able flick it away as if it'd been nothing now that he finds some time to think about it.

Shaking his head at once, dismissing blossoming ideas of his own fighting-type being allowed to fling rocks across their training fields before its even begun to take root, Gary focuses on their task at hand.

This is the boulder that covers this whole route from the dangers lurking deep beneath the ground in Mt. Moon, and it's with barely restrained nerves that Gary finds himself biting down on his bottom lip as they near their final stop in this route. His eyes curiously scanning every inch of the rock he's been despising ever since his discovery that his whole journey depends on going through this horrible place.

So this is it, huh? He's actually going to go through with this insanity?

Heaving a resigned sigh, shaky in quality, Gary quickly crosses the distance left between the three of them and their destination. Standing fully before their hidden entrance he starts to relieve himself of his pack, dropping it uncerimoniously to the pebble-ridden ground beneath, not even going to bother with guessing if he can squeeze through the tiny gap with the added width that a backpack would provide.

"Squirtle, Mankey, come up here and help me push this thing away!" He commands, lips thin as paces in a half-circle in front of their obstacle, trying to figure out just how to go about this. They can't really close up the passage after themselves, so it'd remain open until the next trainer comes stumbling along to it— he already pities that person whoever they'll be.

Mankey hobbles up beside his stumbling turtle companion, both of them looking up at their trainer for guidance. Gary takes matters into his own hands as he catches on with a fleeting smile, walking over to the right side of the boulder, he motions for his partners to help him out, "Under me, we got to push it out of the way," he calls over, "We've actually got some work ahead of us, so no petty fights, alright?"

Mumbling their respective but begrudging acceptance of his orders, the shorter of the pair, his squirtle, walks up and places himself under his trainers legs, stumpy arms ready to push against the boulder. Mankey follows suit with a more lazy attitude, rearing himself on his legs, he towers over the tiny turtle as he follows suit in a similar fashion, knuckles ready to push.

"Alright, ready?" Their respective battle roars almost makes him regret asking. Wishing to rub his ears in pain, he can't help but respect their commitment.

"Push in.. one, two... and three!"

With a oomph, Gary starts pushing at the boulder before them, his two companions following suit with roars of their own. It's slow, the heavy boulder groaning as it starts to grind across the rubble beneath it, it's an uncomfortable sound, eerie and foreign to their ears and it signifies just how different of an experience this will be.

They've barely pushed it away halfway before the rock itself eases up and decides to roll out of the way with a few last pushes of strength.

What it reveals is the tiny gap, enough for an adult to maybe push through on their stomach. It's large enough for him along with his partners and that's what matters here.

Crouching down, Gary crawls over on his knees to the pack he'd left nearby, grabbing it and hauling it over to the gap in question with a grunt, settling himself down before their hidden little entrance with his two partners before deciding to pose the dreaded question.

"So, who's going first?"

Squirtle's purple gaze blinks up at him once, sitting down before him with a puzzled look on his features. Mankey simply looks on with his furious red, staring up at him with frightening focus and nothing else.

Allowing himself a resigned sigh, it's better to simply deduce their roles here and now.

"Alright, alright," Gary mumbles, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair in frustration, "Mankey, I'll have you take point, give me a grunt if you think the coast is clear for me to go through."

Mankey gives him a slow, unnerving nod that's equal to his intense focus, rising from his rear to hobble over to the entrance to peak through with newly found curiosity now that he's been allowed to.

"Squirtle," Gary adds, catching both of their attention, a sign of just how serious the two feel about this aswell, "You're taking the rear, I'll have you go in last just incase we've got some wild rattatas on our tail, even if it's really unlikely, alright?"

Giving him a sturdy nod of his large head, Squirtle looks delighted at his role, taking it with his usual childish glint. It'll be replaced soon, he's sure, his buddy knows when to be serious.

"Great," offering up a large grin to his turtle, Gary signals with a two-fingered wave to the entrance, "Mankey go through and make a noise if it's clear, okay? Not too loud, if you can help it." His furballs penchant for screeching is still something he's trying to restrain even if it's useful in battle.

Nodding sharply, turning at once and peeking through with his trout, Mankey offers up some audible snorts of his nose as he makes sense of the foreign smells at the entrance of the cave. Pushing through, he watches his furry partner traverse to the other side, the low and careful snorts telltale of just how serious he's taking his role.

He's gone for a minute or so, the sounds coming from within the cave entrance his only reassurance that his second partner hasn't run off inside the cave to chase some imaginary sandshrew, but it's enough to keep his nerves calm.

A trout pushes through to their end of the world, Mankeys piercing red glaring up at him as he gives a nod of his round frame, telling him the coast is clear to enter.

Flashing a thumbs-up to his furry partner, Gary readies himself by pushing through his backpack first, squeezing it through the gap without much effort put into it, it's fairly wide afterall.

Next up, himself.

Crouching down, dirtying his bare elbows as he comes to a crawl, Gary can't help but wonder one thing and one thing only.

How in the world did his _gramps_ squeeze through this?

It's enough of a thought to allow a brief, sensible chuckle to escape the young trainer as he pushes himself through the tight space, possibly confusing his two friends and making them question his sanity aswell.

Crawling through, scraping his elbows as he attempts to get some leeway inside the tight passage, Gary Oak finds himself greeted with pitch black darkness save for the little rays of light that flicker through their entrance. Each movement, each miniscule pebble as his sneakers find their grip along the dank cavern floor echoes in their immediate vicinity.

Audibly swallowing, finding his throat to be feeling awfully dry for some reason, he peers back towards the light they'll be leaving behind, motioning with a wave of his hand for Squirtle to join them, "Come on in bud, we should get going right away."

Squirtle offers up a meek cry of agreement, travelling on all fours for a brief moment before he too rises amongst the deafening darkness surrounding them all.

Allow a cool breath to escape his lips, Gary squats down and hauls his pack back into its rightful place, digging into the right side-pocket to procure one of the flashlights he'd bought earlier in the day.

Taking a few measured steps into the pitch black cavern that'll be their home for the coming week, he looks over his shoulder at his two family members that's straying behind basking in the only natural light they'll see for a long while, nodding to beckon them forward with his facial expression grim, he simply speaks his mind,

"Let's go, you two."

A snort of pride, a cry of confirmation, they join their trainer with self-assured strides as they all begin to tackle this mountain head-on.

* * *

Two hours, that's how long they've been in here judging by his pokédex.

It feels like an eternity, each step taken with the most care he'd ever had, each step colouring their surroundings with numerous echoes that keeps them all on edge.

His flashlight guiding their way, cold sounds of the mere slivers of water present inside this cave dropping down into the miniscule puddles beneath, it paints a picture he'd all but forgotten about his travels down here with his old geezer. The strong walls of his gramps protectors all but having supressed such vivid imagery.

It's all coming back now, yet it's not all terrible.

He faintly remembers turning a right, then another right— diligently following the map he'd recieved from his gramps during his quiet days when both Squirtle and Mankey had been mending from their difficult battle with Brock.

Having had time to pour it over, almost knowing it inside and out without sparing a glance down at it, has come in handy so far. There's vivid the descriptions that dominate his thoughts that his gramps had shared with him along with the map;

' _Follow the first westside wall, you'll hit the north one within just a few minutes, there's a small, barely enough to squeeze through passage that cuts a half hour walk, it'll be obvious I promise. See? Along this one, where I'm pointing, I know you'll find it easily enough._ '

He did find it, following the right wall just as soon as he'd entered the cave, he and his two partners had been diligently keeping check of all medium-size rocks in their immediate vicinity for signs of any Geodude or any potential encounters they would've been forced to deal with but they've been lucky so far.

Having squeezed through the passage his gramps had informed him of more than an hour ago almost felt surreal, but it's a sign that atleast they're making some very decent progress on getting through all of this, however slight it may be in the long run.

Gary Oak finds himself scanning with his flashlight as he turns his frame to the left, lips drawn to a frown as he scours their surroundings for any tidbits that could help him navigate more fluidly.

They've barely spoken a word, the three of them, none wishing to disturb the eerie quiet for fear of just what might be lurking just ahead.

Muttering his directions as quietly as he can, Gary decides busies himself with reading the dim screen of his pokédex for any potential details he could've missed, thoughts working overtime to go over the conversation he'd had with his old geezer.

Such are his next twenty minutes, sharp brown gaze flicking down from their path only to latch onto the screen the next second with familiar repetition.

That is, until he feels a _rough_ tug on his jeans that almost makes him stumble mid-walk.

Whirling around, not even bothering to reprimand his furry menace for his actions, he knows it's merely for his own consideration and that's exactly why he carefully bites out a whisper of, "What?"

On-edge immediately, Gary keeps his flashlight facing forward and the brief light it gives to their surroundings gives him a clear view of his two partners both pointing past the brightly illuminated area to the immediate right of their little group.

Latching onto their line of sight, he carefully flicks the flashlight towards the direction and at first he's not even sure what he's supposed to look at.

"What do y'mean? What's wrong?" This isn't fun and games, it's a matter about survival so maybe he comes off abit too forceful with his pronounication, but at an insistant grunt from his hard-shelled friend and a motion to look at the ground— Gary understands.

Sharp brown eyes latching onto the rocky ground beneath the illuminated area his flashlight had turned towards, he _finally_ spots it and at first his lungs feel like he's been punched in the gut because air won't reach them.

 _A Sandshrew_

There's no other way to describe the texture of that particular rock other than the marbled hide of a sandshrew, taking in a greedy gulp of air, a much needed one aswell, Gary keeps the flashlight directed above the little creature so they don't risk stirring it from its apparent slumber.

Earthquake, magnitude, rock tomb and rollout.

It's all within his grasp, right now— if he'd just wish to give it a surprise attack and knock it out.

 _No, it'll cause tremors, echoes and alert Arcues knows what towards our location._

It's with his mind torn between logical thinking and potential disaster that he tries to reason with himself. First of all, he's got no idea of just how powerful this lone sandshrew could be, he can't really tell the difference between a young and untrained one versus an older seasoned survivalist.

If it's the latter, they're pretty much screwed and they'll have a full-scale battle on their hands versus someone who can manipulate the very _ground_ they're on.

If it's the former, he's got himself a new partner that's an all-around powerful battler if raised right.

Survival or greed, the Oak heir can't decide.

"What should we do?" It's a whisper, low and quiet, unlike him to pose such questions to his partners but he _has_ to. This isn't about just him, it's about all of their lives.

His partners look up at him with their vibrantly shining eyes amongst the dim light surrounding them. Doubtful, ponderous and alert, they're all thinking the same thing.

"Should I capture it? Should we risk a fight?"

Both of his friends blink once at his suggestion, looking amongst themselves before the furry one of the two step towards him with a firm nod, offering his acceptance towards the fighting aspect of it all.

Gary almost feels his serious attitude crumble at the thought that; _Ofcourse Mankey would choose fighting when it's an option._

His own sharp brown bores into serious red. Mind rolling through a multitude of different scenarios and just how serious they all could turn, maybe it'd be better to launch a multitude of different attacks at the same ti—

A tug of his jeans, much lighter and calmer than the two more agile and hot-headed personas present.

Dark-purple latches itself onto his own brown, trying to get him to understand the severity as his hard-shelled friend slowly shakes his head; a negative in his opinion.

"No? Why?" He needs to know, any reason at all to get rid of these insistant thoughts of power within his grasp.

Squirtle carefully lifts a stubby arm before gesturing with slow, careful movements towards their surroundings, waving his arm gingerly over the area both ahead and above them.

Clarity dawns upon him, understanding his young partners concern; _He's worried about the potential disaster this could have and draw more pokémon to us._

Swallowing the thick lump that's forming in his throat, Gary Oak finds himself numbly nodding along several times at his hard-shelled friends advice.

"You're right, you're right.." It hurts, but the turtle is right and his concerns are well-founded unlike his furry partners addiction to the songs of battle.

"Squirtle's right, I'm sorry Mankey— we need to keep moving, when we're close to the exit we'll try to find one then." It's the least he can say to hopefully keep his stubborn fighting-type complacent.

A snort, low and careful, yet miffed at his choice of turning his back on a battle, it's met with another one of begrudging acceptance.

Offering up a brief, miniscule smile to his bi-pedal fighter, Gary simply offers his thanks, "Cheers, furball."

Turning serious, he signals with a two-fingered wave to continue along the path before them, minding his steps now that they're all sure there's a potential enemy nearby, it's more unnerving than before.

It doesn't take long, getting out of earshot with the small ground-type they had encountered. While he would've liked to capture one, it's too risky this early in their journey and it'd only serve to slow them down and take them much longer to navigate through the cave. Not to mention potential injuries. But it's better have a more positive outlook on all of this, remindering himself that there'll always be other chances, other creatures they could spot further into this journey.

There's always geodudes, clefairys and zuba— Gary feels his thoughts come to a grinding halt.

His blood freezes at the realization, head slowly turning upwards while carefully keeping his flashlight facing forward.

There's _never_ a way to know if there's any zubats above your head, sleeping and nesting in the cavern ceilings without a thought of the ground below. Shining a light up there would spell doom for them.

Their battle, their potential battle would've shaken their surroundings and it could've possibly been numerous zubat flocks above their heads without realizing it.

Did— did Squirtle know?

"Squirtle," he starts, his mouth having a dry feel to it as he works his jaw to form his words. He turns his head to look back over his shoulder to notice just how dark-purple latches itself onto his features, looking up at him with a questioning gaze.

"Did— did you think about the zubats above us, back there with the sandshrew?"

His hard-shelled friend blinks once, vibrant purple closing before he starts to mimic his arm movements from before, Gary finds his heart sink as it's with a skip of its beat he realizes with horror just how it hadn't been to show them their surroundings, it had been to simulate a _flying_ motion.

"O—Okay, good thinking, bud." It's all he can muster out, head almost spinning as he mentally chastises himself for even having forgotten it yet he can't help but remember one crucial little detail he'd told his bumbling partner;

He did indeed order Squirtle to be on zubat duty.

If they had engaged and attempted to capture their next partner, it wouldn't simply have been a gamble of just how powerful the sandshrew would be, but if they could handle that along with running from a flock of dozens or so zubats that would've spared no expense in sucking them dry of their vital fluids.

It's with a heavy heart, dry mouth and aching head that Gary Oak finds himself thinking;

 _This is going to be a long day_.

* * *

Looking down at his pokédex, it's safe to say that almost a full forty-eight hours has passed since their stupid decision to enter this horrible cave. The group finds themselves immersed with low murmurs of discussion, food along with bowls placed down on the cavern floor inside their little corner he'd found at the pitstop of their spelunking, to give them all a brief break.

They've earned it after the day they've had so far.

The last twenty four hours certainly hadn't been easy, with its trials and tribulations that'd test just about anyone on their wit and cunning.

Biting open a packet that contains the dried tauros jerky he'd bought the day before, Gary digs into his light snack as he oversees his small family eating out of their respective bowls.

Sandshrew hadn't been the only creature they ran into, and certainly not the least. While they had been efficient in their movements, covering a large portion of the map he'd been given by his old geezer, it hadn't been without its fair share of battles.

By his recount, they've faced twenty or so geodudes, most of them efficiently dispatched by the combination of both his partners working together quite flawless to simultainously attack. His fierce fighting-type going in for close-combat, dodging and weaving to draw out the geodude into the light of his flashlight more clearly, making the rock-type expend its energy to simply attempt to get a hit in.

It hadn't, not by a long shot. Any reprieve where the Mankey hadn't been harassing the poor rock-type, a barrage of liquid spears filled with the super-effective torment only a water-type could dish out in these caves had been dispatched at every opportunity. Filling in the gaps his Mankey had left by distancing himself, it had been twenty clear knockouts with this effective strategy.

Gary Oak feels quite proud over their achievements so far, but the one that still stuck with him. One of the fears he'd had ever since their first step into this damnable cave had been realized for a fleeting moment.

He remembers ordering his furry partner to scout ahead, having spotted the numerous boulders that overlooked a ledge just in front of them. According to his map, it'd been a perfect vantage point to scout out their current location and find their way to their next area.

The horrible twist however, was that one of the boulders hadn't exactly been what it seemed.

A graveller, roaring its frustrations at being roused from its sleep with four arms flailing had taken them all off-guard and within seconds, the slowest seconds Gary can ever remember experiencing, it gives a harsh smack. His furry partner sent flying down the ledge ahead and helplessly into the awaiting cliff below. He hadn't succeeded fully, ofcourse, his stubborn savage little fighter had been born to climb, fight and survive— but he can still remember it as if it'd been hours ago.

His heart had sunk, erratic in its beat, and he'd actually roared after his furry partner, Squirtle releasing the most terrifying sound he could've ever remember hearing as waterguns started to just _rain_ down on the poor graveller without any command. He hadn't needed one except the fact that the boulder had just knocked the fighting-type down into nothingness.

Harsh commands, bite marks on the inside of his cheek that he could still taste, it's all so vivid and real. It had been minutes, no sign of any sound or any tell-tale snort of his second partner. He'd almost thought him gone, flung down into the abyss and they'd been left _alive_ and well with the one who'd done it.

Gary remembers thinking about capturing the graveller in his enraged state. To just capture it, and chuck it down into the awaiting pit below as punishment.

Thankfully, It hadn't been until the middle of the rage-induced fight filled with the fierce need to simply knock the creature that had the gal to flick their third family member down to harsh cavern floor from a dozen or so meters high out cold that they'd finally heard a scrape and screech coming from the ledge. The rock-type barely having a chance against an enraged duo of both trainer and pokémon, It had taken them a few seconds to realize that their resident furry maniac had climbed back up the cliff with expert dexterity and flexibility, scraping by with heavy breathing and manic snorts from his trout.

More pissed off than actually hurt.

Gary had almost, just almost, started to shed tears out of relief— not that he'd admit as much to anyone but his Squirtle, but it had been close. Far too close. He's quite sure he probably would've used up all his rope to simply try to get down to the bottom of it and search if it hadn't worked out far luckier than he'd ever imagined.

It had, and it'd taken all the willpower he had to not run over and forcefully pick up his stubborn fighting-type and run far, far away from that cliff.

That graveller wouldn't be waking up for a long time, having probably knocked it out well past any semblance of conciousness within a minute of Mankey returning. He'd put a stop to it, roaring for his hard-shelled friend to _stop_ pelting the gravellers unconcious form with watergun after watergun.

It had shaken both of them, and Gary had actually _hugged_ his fighting-type, not caring if he'd thrash or snort wildly out of pride. They've been even more careful ever since, but it'd gone atleast a day since those events, he'd had a chance to have his adrenaline fueled thoughts calm down and reassess the situation.

Its taught him that despite the fact that such accidents and misshaps can happen, he can't let himself loose his cool. There's always a chance for survival, you'll just have to believe in your partners ability to take care of themselves.

They're smart, they're capable even alone and without his guidance. They're no tools, they're creatures with a will of their own. No amount of training will ever reduce them to less.

But it's over now, and he'll do better if there's a next time, to simply be a better trainer— It's all he can do.

Gary leans the back of his head against the harsh cavern wall, eyes closed as he simply allows himself to rest amongst the peace and quiet their little camp has right now.

The low sounds of his two partners conversing filling the quiet void, and he's grateful for it. It keeps his mind from falling back to just where they're headed next.

He's reread the entire map, absolutely confirming just where their next destination is— the room he'd watched his old geezer disappear into.

Where his only memories of this cave were the strongest, the most frightening.

Haunting sounds left in their wake, the echo of roars that hadn't been from his gramps team of giants. There's no telling what will await them in there, he'd pestered his elder about just what had happened in there all of these years and he'd never been given a concrete answer except one;

' _You'll find out when you travel there yourself someday, Gary._ '

He's here now, like his gramps had always told him— and it scares him.

It scares him because he doesn't know if it'll be the toughest fights of his life or if it'll be a breeze to simply waltz through. A large, oh so terribly large room with the highest cavern ceiling he ever could remember seeing, but that's all he knows.

Gary had even questioned his gramps on just why he'd need to go through that way a mere week ago, on just why he couldn't take a detour that'd take him another day or so but it always came back to the same answer;

' _You'll know strength, Gary_ — _you'll know what's required to be a pokémon trainer._ '

It didn't make sense to him, to have this imaginary trial set out before him by his old geezer. Was it see if he's worthy? Worthy of what exactly? Of his dreams?

Gary leans his chin on crossed arms laid over his knees, sulking in the quiet darkness of Mt. Moon.

He'll probably regret feeling this for the rest of his days, but he's.. _curious._

He's always been curious about the life his gramps lead before he came into the picture, of how he'd travelled the world searching for the greatest discoveries and challenges. How all he meet gushes with praise as they hear his name, as if he's not privy to something everybody else knows.

It bothers him far more than he'll ever tell anyone.

Finishing up, Gary throws the wrapper of his dried tauros jerky into the plastic bag he'd kept all his trash in, rising from his seat next to the dank cavern wall, he stretches his arms high above his head as he speaks up, "Clean up, we're leaving,"

Two pair of vibrantly coloured eyes flick up to him, with their meals over and done with it's with two audible sounds of begrudging agreement they dutifully rise and grab their respective bowls, placing them next to his backpack. Offering up his thanks, he bends down to pick them both up and stashes them into the pack before zipping up and hauling it up on his back yet again.

He'll find out, Gary decides with finality. He'll find out just why his gramps insists on him travelling through that horrible part of the cave.

"I remember this place, we'll need to be abit extra careful with how we move forward now," Gary starts, strapping in his half-empty waterbottle to the left side of his pack.

Squirtle stumbles over to his side, ever the vigilant companion, at the ready despite all that's happened. Mankey follows shortly after, dragging his knuckles behind him as he waddles over with pure boredom radiating from his frame.

"I want you two to be prepared for the fights of your life, there's no telling of just what we'll find, got it?"

Dark-purple peers up at him curiously, as does furious red with sudden glee. Both nod at his insistent gaze, lingering only for a few extra moments before the young trainer sets his sights forward, jaw clenched painfully.

"Let's go then."

* * *

Quiet.

Open space as far as he could see, this is the entrance Gary Oak remembers seeing his gramps disappear through.

Pushing himself past the numerous rocks that's present just about everywhere on the cavern floor amongst these parts, rubble untouched for weeks at a time, perhaps even more with just how suffocatingly silent these parts of the cave truly are.

The only sounds present is his sneakers irritating the pebbles beneath his soles, his mankeys telltale snorts and his squirtles graceless stumbles.

It's a bad sign if he'd ever had one, and it's utterly terrifying.

Pushing his grip against the opening inside the cavern wall, Gary forces himself past the imaginary entrance to this trial his gramps had given him, powering through on sheer will alone as he comes to a stop inside— he pauses in his steps, his breathing.

Just what is this?

Holding up his flashlight, illuminating the walls as high as he can muster, he can't help but shrink back as he discovers just how exceedingly humongous this very cavern.. room, space? What can he even use to describe all of this?

It's like a floor in and of itself, stretching as far as he can see even with his flashlight, the only thing that keeps it from feeling uncharacteristicly vacant is the numerous and large boulders propped up just about everywhere he can see.

Steeling himself, feeling his nerves threatening to escape his firm hold on them, Gary finds himself taking his first tentative steps forward inside the spacious cavern area.

His first step, echoing harshly and several times across the whole floor, the high cave ceiling not doing any miniscule of a sound any favors. His two partners, equally as on edge, stumbles and hops along beside him.

They're in this together, whatever it now is, and they're not about to turn around due to fear or insecurity. Besides— where would they flee?

It's all or nothing, there's nothing to turn back towards except failure.

"My gramps always told me I'd go here when I got older, I didn't really know what he meant by it, y'know?" Gary finds himself sharing, whispered words normally only meant for his two partners, yet each word finds itself echoing harshly and loudly.

Squirtle cranes his neck to peer up at him, confined to its shell as it is, he appears to look somewhat puzzled at his trainers confession.

Gary doesn't mind, mostly talking to himself as it is, "I still don't, and this isn't really helping."

Walking steadily now, progressing through and past the numerous large rocks that would've usually blocked their path. Such a thing isn't really possible here, it's far too spacious for something like that and it only bothers him more and more.

Murmuring his words, deciding it's better to get the whole thing over with quicker as its pretty his only option right now, he opens his mouth to voice his thoughts, "Let's pick up the pace, we'll be out of this place soon enough."

A grunt of agreement, a snort of acceptance— both echoing harshly and clearly to all of their ears.

Walking faster, jumping and climbing past the numerous rocks that prove to be in their way, it's progressing far smoother and far quieter than Gary would've guessed.

There's nothing of interest as far as he has seen with his flashlight, nothing that could indicate all of those horrible sounds he could never get to leave his dreams and memories.

Something isn't adding up.

Speaking up yet again, Gary feels an unbridled surge of panic, urging his words on, "Keep your eyes open, I don't have a good feeling about this at all."

He's working up a sweat now, progressing past all of these boulders, diligently keeping track of the map he'd recieved from his old geezer, it's almost resembling what he'd done for these past two days.

Pushing his Squirtle up and past a particularily large boulder, Mankey aiding at the top of it, Gary climbs up with the added weight of his pack, muscles starting to feel heavy with exhaustion as he feels like there's no real end in sight with this floor.

Excerting enough effort to get him into a sitting position atop the large rock, Squirtle in his lap and Mankey holding onto it with expert grace and dexterity, Gary Oak finally allows his gaze to travel across the room at a higher vantage point— and his whole world comes to a grinding halt.

That's..

"A pit?" It's more out of shock than anything that he allows the words to slip out, yet it's exactly as he describes.

A large, gaping pit, enough to probably cover a few meters in diameter, it demands his attention far more than anything else has in this horrible cave.

Wiping at his eyes, sweat running down his forehead and into his features, Gary pulls his other arm around his hard-headed partners shell, sliding down on his backpack to the ground below, to the gaping pit that's barely a few meters away. He needs to investigate, he has too— this is what his gramps had both wanted to show him and warn him about.

This has to be where all those sounds had come from, but..

"Just what..?" Kneeling down, at a loss for words, Gary slings his pack down beside him as he crawls over to the edge of the pit.

Feeling across the rim, the dirt falls down into it with ease, no hardened crust or anything that'd suggest they're.. old.

Gary sharply looks up with an intake of his breath, head and neck straining to completely look around himself as he forces his legs to kick away from the pit itself.

He knows what this is.

It's new.

It's a..

It's..

Swallowing forcefully, his mouth dry and his head aching beyond redemption, Gary reveals his discovery with careful words;

"It's.. from an Onix."

At his word, as if summoned by the very legends themselves, the young trainer finds his fingertips shaking and it takes him but a few moments to realize that it's **not** him.

Dark-purple snaps to his features forcefully, wide-eyed and looking past him to the pit itself after a second or two, feeling the quakes himself. Fiery red widens slightly, fur sticking up on all ends as Mankey falls down on all fours trying to keep his balance steady and it's enough for him to understand just how serious of a situation this is.

Turning his flashlight forward, scrambling with shaking digits to hoist his pack up on his back, Gary Oak finds himself looking out over the now quite spacious field before them.

The light revealing more and more with each shaking movement of his arm;

More burrows.

Lots and lots of more burrows from the giant stone-snakes.

Pushing himself up on his shaking limbs, Gary Oak fuels his adrenaline filled thoughts with one sentence only,

"We need to get to the other side," It's the harshest his voice has ever been, " **Now!** "

He doesn't even bother thinking of if Squirtle can keep up with both Mankey and him, he swiftly grabs the turtle in his haste and picks up his pace as he starts to just dash across the pit-ridden field, not bothering with explaining his actions except calling for his furry partner to join him;

" **Run!** "

The very ground starts to shake, dirt crumbling beneath them and the gaping pits surrounding them all starts to cave in on themselves. His legs pumping with the only chance they have of surviving all of this, "Don't look back, keep running!"

Roaring his words, it seems their pursuiter only increases the fervor of their chase, the unsteady ground behind them threatening to swallow them up as the titan of earth makes itself known.

It starts as a low murmur, their steps starting to grow uneasy with the shaking ferocity of the soil beneath, stumbling in his haste, cursing his luck several times over, Gary flicks his panicked gaze behind him.

A horn, made of stone and the lethal signifier just how _close_ the Onix is to actually reaching them.

 _They— they can't flee_.

Squirtle tugs at his shirt and he knows they've got no other option here, no matter how hard it'll be, no matter if they'll survive or not, no questioning of just what number of Onix they'll face, they can only come to this one conclusion.

" **Stand and fight!** " It's a bellow, roar and filled with the desperation and adrenaline Gary can feel flowing through him.

Squirtle dislodges himself from his grip, sliding down to the ground beneath as he makes a clumsy escape to the right, Mankey goes to his flank on the left, pushing past the pebbles that are flung just about everywhere as Gary finds himself greeted by the shaking earth swallowing itself before him.

Earth scattered, pieces of rubble lodged to the ground for decades crumbled as the titan of the earth rears its boulder-shaped head backwards as it springs upwards, offering up the most spine-chilling roar he's ever had to hear.

Looming overhead, putting the sky high cavern ceiling to shame as its beady black pupils center themselves on the trio before it, they've only got one response for the giant—

" **Watergun** — follow up with **Low Kick**!"

* * *

 **Sorry for the long wait between chapters! I managed to lose my writing groove for a few months there, and it took some time to get back into it. Hopefully it holds up to the other chapters.  
**

 **A mere follow or critique, as harsh and precise as you feel it should be, goes a long way with helping me keep motivation high.**

 **If there's any requests for anything to be included in the story, such as captures or anything else, I'm all ears as I'm still planning all of this out.**

 **Cheers for being good sports.**


	6. Titan of Earth

**Rival**

* * *

"Watergun, follow up with Low Kick!"

Springing to life at once to the sound of their trainers voice, the duo kicks off with immediate acceleration, both Squirtle and Mankey moving into their prefered roles without question.

Pebbles spraying everywhere in the darkness with each kick of the furious bi-pedal fighters rear legs, Mankey thunders past his trainer and forward to the awaiting titan of the earth as the turtle stays back, comfortably slipping into the shooting stance they've beat into his tiny frame over the past month.

They're a team, partners, and they're going to survive this legend forsaken place. "Aim for its head, Squirtle!" Gary roars.

Recieving a loud grunt as affirmative, his partners watergun starts pouring forth. Spits of liquid, spears made lethal through his hard-shelled friends rigorious training.

"Give Squirtle some space, Mankey— go for its lower boulders and force it to dodge!"

A snort, wild and untamed as it should be reaffirms his words amongst the dimly lit cave. Each step, each roar and each command echoing harshly in the spacious area, it's frightening and _exciting_.

His heart thumping wildly in his chest, his ears pounding with his pulse. It's exactly the opposite of what he should be feeling right now, yet Gary Oak can't help it— he grins.

He grins, because this is _their_ challenge.

This is the chance to make his old geezer realize his potential.

Onix rears its head and core backwards, positively confused as they launch their simultainous attack. Forcibly made to dodge, weave and manouver around lethal spears up top and a lethal fighting-type down under.

Gary fumbles with his flashlight in the chaos, trying to aid his partners as best he can as he slowly backs up, illuminating the onix core for his hard-shelled friend to aim and for his furball to strike. Biting his lip, chewing it as he's deep in thought, each swish of the Onix tail heavy on his ears as it crashes down into the ground with ferociousness unlike Brocks own boulder-snake.

This is a wild Onix, untamed and incredibly dangerous— enraged at their gal to invade its home. It's no wonder it's so aggressive and so adamant about crushing them all.

Trying to bat away his mankey, the large boulder tail works as an effective shield from the furious little fighting-type. His hard-shelled partners waterguns achieving their desired effectiveness but it's only forcing the humongous rock-type to dodge. It turns into mere suppressing fire, not the lethal rain it should be at this distance. Gary's not even sure if the Onix has noticed the hits it had taken so far, judging by its desire to chase after Mankey.

Gritting his teeth as the large, oh so terribly large onix rears its head back and defiantly roar. A deafening sound that's enough for his Squirtle to drop his endless stream of waterguns for only a brief moment, It's with sudden horror that Gary finds himself remembering just _where_ they are.

His cocky thoughts feeling so far off with his realization.

Amongst all these burrows, bottomless pits and the likes. It'd be no surprise, infact it'd be a certainty, there would be more of these giants.

A lone boulder-snake is already a formidable opponent for their group, far more than the previous one they'd faced amongst the harsh artifically lit environment of the Pewter City gym.

To think that— to even _entertain_ the thought of attempting to fight any more of these would be considered suicide.

But, what other choice do they have? It's not like the Pewter Gym, in a controlled environment where the onix most natural abilities are hindered, the stone-snakes are in their peak. In the Onix own home there's nothing they can d—

Home.

Sudden thoughts make him blink with renewed clarity.

With a sharp intake of breath, Gary's eyes automatically draw themselves to their opponents rocky head, its large eyes barely illuminated by his flashlight. Comfortable in its own home— in its own darkness. What if it wasn't? What if it'd be out in the sun and the light it'd never seen in its life down here in Mt. Moon?

"Start firing as fast as you can, Squirtle!" Gary roars with sudden fervor, following it up with a quick signaling nod to his furry partner, "Mankey move in for another Low Kick now!"

Steering his flashlight upwards, shining it straight up into the beady black little pupils of the onix. It suddenly halts its descent forward towards his own partners, stopping for just a brief second suspended in mid-air before rearing backwards.

Turning its giant head away from the illuminated source in front of it, a roar of agony follows at its horror of being blinded unexpectedly.

Their chance of survival making itself known.

Everyone pounces at once, snorts of triumph, roars of commands absolute and water hailing down upon their foe. The trio begin their merciless attacks.

Squirtle, trekking forward with each precise shot of his watergun, aiming straight for where the large stone-snake would feel it the most, its core. The very large immobile core essential to an Onix's stability. The impacts of his shots, each hitting the mark with terrifying precision, causing the large rock-type to writhe and roar in its defiant pain this time around.

Mankey, down low and speeding across the uneven battlefield as if it'd been his own playground. Furious scarlet stares up at the light amongst the darkness surrounding them all, he jumps with his grip reached out, finding his footing on the large swinging tail of the Onix.

"Low Kick!" He doesn't need to order it twice, as the furious little bundle of savagery hangs onto the tail as if it were his life, using its momentum to swing his two legs backwards before cracking them back towards the rock-type with the white sheen of his Low Kick.

Howling in pain, the large rock-type starts swinging its slithering body wildly. Attempting to shake off the horrible light, stinging pain and annoying nuisance of a fighting-type from its senses.

It doesn't work.

"Karate Chop until its down! Aim for the head, Squirtle!" Knock it out, keep it from ever having a chance to retaliate!

Mankey hangs onto the moving Onix, clambering to keep his grip firm as the stone-snake just won't stop in its painful slithers as he attempts to escape their wrath. Raising a lone knuckle, harnessing the power and the energy needed for his Karate Chop, Mankey starts slamming his knuckle repeatedly into the hard exterior of Onix's tail.

Each hit giving birth to a new roar of defiance, howls colouring the darkness surrounding them with their triumph. Gary feels a wild grin tug at the edge of his lips, drinking in the sight of their battle with renewed determination.

Unfortunately, his cheerful mood doesn't last long.

The large rock-type managing to weave around a few of the watergun projectiles headed its way, finds enough strength to start thrashing more wildly than it already had. Tail swinging, swatting just about everywhere as Mankey just won't stop cracking his knuckles against its boulders. It finds success that's punctuated by shriek, and it's with a loud cut-off snort filled with anger, imbued with the pain at being swatted repeatedly by a heavy tail that his furball finally looses his grip and gets sent flying across the darkness covering the cavern room.

Heart in the bottom of his stomach, the Oak heir finds himself feeling as if time has stopped completely, his dark-brown eyes trailing the little dark splotch soaring across the ceiling.

Gritting his teeth as he just _knows_ what he must do, Gary takes off in a sprint towards where Mankey should be landing across the rubbled ground, roaring his commands over to his still fighting hard-shelled partner, entrusting him with his life. Adrenaline fueling his thoughts, his voice and his legs. "Keep firing, don't let it move!" Gary roars.

Throwing away his flashlight in an instant, the young trainer knows he can't even think about receiving a heavy mankey with his arms if his hands are occupied. Legs starting to ache with each sprinting step towards where he sees the almost black blur soaring across the cavern ceiling.

Gary finds his knees threatening to give out. His exhaustion by travelling this damnable cave, his stubborness in climbing every large rock on this forsaken floor, his desire to keep moving overwhelming his senses and aches. The only thing that matter is just him catching that soaring ball of fur and get him to _keep_ fighting, to get them out of this mess;

Unbridled thoughts steer him, haunts him in the form of his turtle that had been flung high up in the air by a similar foe in the Pewter gym, the landing had almost ended the match, their chances of victory. He doesn't want it to end, he doesn't want to see bruises, angry dark marks and whatever else he could find as he presented the tough little guy to Nurse Joy, he doesn't want to see it happen to his friends again—

" _ **Mankey!**_ "

Leaping forward almost blindly, turning his body rightway in his efforts to cushion his fighting-types brutal fall with his frame, he gets met with the most gut-punching body contact he could've ever imagined experiencing, feeling the air drain from his lungs in an instant.

Sliding backwards at the force of impact, feeling _every_ single fiber of each piece of rubble against his side, each one leaving searing pain that he's sure he'll feel when all of this is over. But he doesn't care knowing what had just occured, what he'd done. Pushing his furry partner up on his feet and off him, allowing him to stand up before Mankey— Gary Oak doesn't even bother with reassuring himself that he's fine.

Stumbling, breath escaping him as he attempts to push himself upwards, he resumes his normal height with minor difficulty and it's with his breath continuing to escape him that he orders his partner to continue, "K— Karate Chop, please," he hates the word but nothing else fits his desperation, "— just help Squirtle!"

A snort, low and distant is made audible before his furry partner prepares himself to kick off in pursuit.

Except he never hears the violent sound of pebbles flying, blinking down through bleary eyes, he can spot just how Mankey seems to position himself in front of him..?

Digging into his backpack with sudden haste and oblivious dizzyness, Gary procures one of his spare flashlights before turning it on and facing it forward.

He regrets it immediately.

Features made out of rock, roar escaping his opponent point-blank as a greeting. The frontal face of Onix appears in sudden shock and promising alot more pain than what he's feeling right now.

Gary feels his eyes threatening to bulge out of its sockets as he starts with haste, dry throat cracking mid-roar of his panicked commands, "Jump up on Onix, Mankey! Don't stop using watergun, Squirtle!"

Pushing his screaming muscles to just _move_ Gary stumbles out of the way of the humongous titan wishing to flatten him against the cavern floor. With a large crash behind him, one he does not dare even look back towards, the Oak heir starts his sprint back towards where his hard-shelled friend should be. The tell-tale glints of water being shot with precision making his steps hurry along.

Mankey meets the crash of the large Onix head-on, leaping up in the air with grace as the large boulder-snake simply crashes into the ground. Echoing violently and making the whole cavern feel like it's just a few minutes shy of falling to pieces, the bi-pedal fighter doesn't relent.

Grappling with the stone-horn atop the large rock-types head, the ferocious combatant shrieks his defiance as he raises a knuckle high up in the air, the white energy blinding amongst their darkness before he slams it down into the very horn he's riding on.

The crashed Onix starts to thrash _wildly_ , moving in pure agony as the super-effective hit beckons it to just flee, to move and get itself away from whatever had just struck it in its sensitive headpiece. Slithering across the ruined battlefield, littered with the pits of its home, the boulder-snake starts thundering its large frame away from the only source of light present in the large spacious cavern floor.

Desperately turning and tossing, roaring in agony with each hit of Karate Chop violently slammed into its horn as Mankey keeps riding it. Onix rears backwards as it only seem to find one single option left for it, to simply just escape the lethal liquid that forces it do dodge and harsh strikes forcing it to crumble in pain. Its head rears backwards, letting loose a defiant roar, before it starts to crash down towards the rubble-ridden ground.

Mankeys furious red widens in recognition, scrambling to get a good grip of his feet before pushing away with as much force as he can muster, flying far and away from the large rock-type as he lands on his four limbs; snorts and manic breathing almost audible amongst the chaos.

Burrowing down, tearing the earth apart with its ministrations, Onix escapes down into the numerous pits it most-likely calls its home. Choked silence only remaining in its wake.

Between harsh breathing of his furballs trout, the sheer exhaustion Gary can spot in his hard-shelled partners frame with each exhale and his own desperate gulps of air, it's far too quiet.

Unnaturally quiet.

Low tremors of the ground below giving him enough information to know that atleast the Onix is burrowing _away_ from them, but it's not enough to calm his nerves. It'll never be enough as long as they remain here.

 _It's over then?_ Gary can't force his scrambled thoughts to comprehend something else other than that.

With a headache that's threatening to overwhelm him, he slumps down upon a piece of rubble next to his hard-shelled friend, pushing his palm up into his forehead to wipe away the sweat that's running down into his eyes, Gary finds brief calm amongst the wake of the terrifying skrimish.

"Good w—" he starts, finding it difficult to speak his mind or to speak at all through his breathing, "Good work, you both did great!" It's only spoken with a _slight_ grimace, discomfort very audible in his voice.

The sound of his two partners slowly making their way towards them makes his head turn upwards, greeting both vibrant purple and furious red with a brief although strained smile.

Silence reigns over them, Gary leaning his tired frame back against the boulder as Squirtle and Mankey almost seem to stand guard next to him, offering their protection and service even as exhausted as they are.

Moving his hand up, pushing away at the hair that's clinging to his face, Gary Oak finds it in himself to start rising. His logical, now half-way functioning mind informing him that it probably wouldn't be such a great idea to just sit and linger in the home of an Onix.

Beckoning both his friends forward as he stretches despite his frames protests, Gary opens his mouth to inform them of their next course of action.

"Phew," he starts, as if trying to lighten all of their moods with feigned positivity. Waving his two partners closer, he begins yet again, "It'd be for the best if we just hurry along and get out of here as soon as possibl—"

A low tremor, the ground shaking with the ministrations of the titan they'd faced earlier makes itself known yet again, a new roar exploding from the pit most nearby.

It soon follows along with two more roars in quick succession.

 _Three Onix._

Brown gaze widening, exhaling sharply as he turns to his two partners, both wearing equally grave expressions on their features. They all give eachother a brief look before everyone nods with determination. Accepting the reality of the situation.

They all just start _booking_ it.

"Just run, we can't keep going like this!" His words are met with a sharp shriek of determination, a loud roar of agreement.

Stumbling on his aching feet, Gary bends down to pick up his hard-shelled friend from the quaking ground, not even going to bother testing if the bumbling little turtle can keep up with their desperate pace.

Running now, legs pumping with adrenaline and desperation to just survive this whole mess, Gary hoists up his hard-shelled partner so his head is peaking up from his shoulders. Giving him a clear overview of their incoming threat behind them.

And it's with a loud roar of his voice that he informs Squirtle of his new plan, "Just keep firing over my shoulder, keep them from catching up!"

A grunt of agreement, the smaller turtles dark-purple latches onto the darkness behind their sprint, gaze desperately scanning for any unusual movements. That is, untill the earth surrounding their rear threatens to swallow them up as it violently starts breaking apart. The titans of the earth giving clear chase to the trio, one large stone-horn and two lesser ones spring up from the immediate danger behind them.

Squirtle starts firing faster than he's ever done before, dark-purple wide and focused as he attempts to suppress them with his shots as well as he can with Mankey running along on all fours next to them. This is how the coming five minutes of their lives are like; Gary roaring over his shoulder to the tiny turtle, his hard-shelled companion firing more waterguns than he's ever had to do in this short span of time just because they _need_ to escape the stone-snakes clutches. Mankey running side-by-side and sporting furious shrieks of just how frustrated he must feel at just running from a fight.

It doesn't take long though. Their wild chase leaving the young trainers breath heavy, starting to hitch with each choked gasp of air he can find. Gary finding his stamina failing him as he feels like he can't even keep up his pace for ten more seconds, his thoughts guide him towards the inevitable;

He doesn't want it to end here with his legs screaming. He doesn't want to fail here and never get to see his friends again, to never see his gramps again and to never see his familiar wrinkles move up in his warm smile— he doesn't want to fail his companions and never realize his goals.

He's no Champion if he'll let a bunch of Onix finish him!

It's with a terrifying collection of roars behind him that he makes his most important and possibly most foolish order to date.

" **Stand and fight!** " the young trainer roars in his defiance of their fate.

Squirtle pushing himself away from his trainers grip, he stumbles down into the cracking cavern floor, making an escape for his left with waterguns shot overhead to deter their pursuiters. Mankey screeching as he makes a u-turn for his right, awaiting their opponents to make a final stand in this legend forsaken cave system.

Their enemy, their fearsome titans awaiting them doesn't wait any longer to remain hidden below ground, sprouting up in a violent collection of howls that shakes the very floor they're on. The big one, the terribly large Onix they'd faced originally rears itself upwards right in the middle where he'd originally called out his command, having sought to crush him with a _Dig_ attack. Large white eyes with beady black pupils stare the trio down with barely suppressed rage.

Following along, his own two companions sprout up, two smaller Onix. Most-likely not fully adult and part of its colony, they both follow through with earth-shaking roars of their own, flanking either side.

It's three against three and Gary doesn't waste a second in informing them all about their plans, "Take down the smaller ones on your own, no matter what!"

"I'll keep the bigger one busy, just trust me!" he bellows.

With his ears greeted with their respective battle-cries, Gary Oak steels himself for the oncoming battle, his grip positively rattling as he holds his flashlight with shaking digits.

Gritting his teeth, Gary knows how impossible this will be. He's no fighter and certainly no pokémon, but he _has_ to. There's no other way, there's no other choice but to fight for survival.

It's a risky strategy, he knows damn well just how risky it is—

The large, adult Onix they've already weakened starts charging towards him. Roaring with rage at having its home defiled by the annoying trio, it rears its ugly head upwards as it thunders near, a white sheen of energy coating its head as he starts to crash down upon the tiny human with an obvious Smack Down attack prepared. It doesn't work out according to plan however, a blinding light suddenly erupting in its retina that makes it simply impossible to track the small human other than just attempting to power through without vision, crashing down with a quake of the cavern ground blindly.

It hits nothing, and it's with his teeth grit that Gary Oak rises up on shaky limbs at having tumbled out of the way of the looming giants attack.

—but what else can he do?

"C'mon, is that the best you can do?!" he roars up at the large rock-type, breathing harsh.

The Onix rising from where it had struck, beady black pupils zero themselves in on him with complete fury.

He doesn't let it begin its charge again, pointing his flashlight up towards said eyes as he keeps taking cautious steps backwards. Rearing backwards aswell, the Onix offering up a deafening roar at the unnatural light, it tries to manouver its large head downwards, escaping any sort of horrible illumination before dashing forward on its slithering and terrifyingly large body.

It's quick, far quicker than Brocks had been, far more sturdier and far more dangerous.

 _This isn't going to go well, is it?_

With just those thoughts, with shaking digits guiding his only chance of survival forward, the Oak heir shines his flashlight, keeping it as steady as he can to bring it forth against the large stony face of the rock-type. Yet it's with horror Gary looks on as the Onix simply just _closes_ its eyes and blindly starts charging him.

Next strike of a heavy boulder-ridden frame, it's far too close.

His legs pumping with adrenaline and screaming their protests, he can just _feel_ the rush of the air picked up by the large boulder-snakes charge. Crashing into the ground, it sends a shockwave that sends him stumbling with each shaking step he takes.

Ending up landing on his knees, Gary swiftly turns over to face the large creature, starting crawling backwards with dirtied hands, flashlight in one of them. His sharp brown gaze, travelling past the large boulder-connected body before him, gets a quick glimpse of his furry partner.

His furry partner that's _riding_ a smaller Onix, having a firm grip on its horn the young trainer can see just how his savage fighter repeatedly slams a white glowing fist into the eyes, jaw and anything else that's precious to the rock-type.

It roars, a terrifying and haunting one that signifies that in its own home it's not the hunter anymore, it's the _hunted_.

Brown eyes widening even more as the smaller Onix almost seems to drop in its altitude, eyes closing unnaturally as Mankey just won't stop slamming Karate Chops wildly into its features, clinging onto its horn that's pretty much unreachable with the torment it's experiencing.

A scrape, a sound of large boulders roving across pebbled ground makes him completely forget his furballs triumph, gaze latching onto the beast that's rearing to go another round with him and finally succeed in crushing him for good.

Gulping down air, he finds his throat dry and constricted. Gary Oak pushes himself up on his legs again, starting with a stumbled run the other way, running left to where his hard-shelled partner should be fighting with the third Onix present.

Catching the dull-brown shell of his water-type in action however, Gary almost finds his legs threatening to give out.

Because, that's not his partner anymore.

He finds his eyes glued to the spectacle before him now, forcing his exhausted frame to just keep running away from the horrible beast that's bound to chase him any second now but it almost feels like it's taking a backseat to just witness what he's seeing.

Squirtle doesn't stumble along any longer on stumpy legs, dodging and making his mark known upon the foe he'd faced just a week earlier. Precision and power, it'd always been his strengths but this.. this is showing him just how lethal his hard-shelled partner is. He's making the large rock-type know just how capable he is.

Each swing of the rock-types tail is met with a harsh blast of liquid pain, pushed back in its attempt by pure overwhelming and super-effective power. Each attempt to swing down with a Smack Down attack or chuck rocks at the tiny turtle with Rock Slide is pushed back.

The power, the precision— it's unlike anything Gary has ever seen his friend do.

This is his first partner, his first pokémon.

The one who'd agreed to his pitiful training. Rocks thrown at him to train his aim in the wrong way without complaint.

Onix, the smaller one, starts to charge with a ferocious desperation to simply just crush his turtle in one swift go rather than experiencing any more torment at the hands of the skilled shooter. The stone making up its head starts to glow a lethal white, signifying something along the lines of a headbutt attack or just a mere tackle but it's enough for Gary to find himself worrying these few precious seconds.

He shouldn't have. Calm, calculating focus is his buds specialty.

Opening its maw, roaring its defiance and desire to simply overwhelm its opponent, Onix makes the one glaring flaw. The one mistake that his turtle had seen once before.

Open its large jaws.

A lethal spear of pressurized liquid zooms past Garys vision faster than he could've ever had a chance of seeing in his disoriented and stressed out state, finding its target with a powerful smack against the rocky insides of the boulder-snakes throat.

It hits its mark beautifully, the smaller Onix erupting into howls of agony drowned by gurgles as Squirtle mercilessly keeps firing straight into the open maw of the giant rock-type.

The boulder-snake doesn't stop in its charge however, and it's with a carefully measured side-step from his turtle that Gary finds his gaze locked with a dull shining dark-purple for a split second, his eyes widening as their eyes meet before his turtles opponent comes soaring between them. Blocking their line of sight like a big wall of rocks.

Breathing harshly, turning on his heels, Gary feels the ground quake behind him, a lethal signifier of just where the _adult_ Onix is heading.

Mind filled with images of shining dark purple, of the riding menace, Gary starts taking backwards steps to get a better view as he forces his flashlight to steer right up at the looming threat above. Yet despite all, every bead of sweat running down his face, every nerve frayed and tortured with stress, he can only find one thought tearing through his head;

 _I've raised pure monsters._

The large Onix, having recovered from its failed attempt to crush him previously, attempts it with more fervor, more lethal intent this time as it does not even bother with the unnatural and painful light anymore.

It slams down quicker, far quicker than before and Gary finds himself thrown off by the impact, cursing his distracted mind several times over as he soars a few meters through a dusty mirage before his body comes to a stop in a crumpled heap.

Everything feels sore, everything just _hurts_.

Coughing violently, feeling as if his guts had been punched yet again, he numbly attempts to reach for the flashlight he'd previously held, his only defense against this terrifying beast.

His grip finds air, mere rubble and pebbles. Nothing else.

Gulping down air, feeling the brink of tears threatening to sprout from his eyes, Gary starts crawling.

Crawling away, as far as he can, anything to get away from his inevitable demise.

Turning around, brown gaze wide with fear as he spots the looming, _real_ monster high above, Gary kicks away with his feet, his futile struggle to push himself further and further away from the Onix.

Rearing itself backwards, dome shining a clear brutal white of a Smack Down attack, Gary _screams—_

 _.._

A bright light starts.

So white it's blinding, his tears and his fears suddenly overshadowed by the violently illuminated source threatening to evaporate all the darkness present in Mt. Moon.

Faintly overhearing the sharp kick of pebbels get sent flying, Gary finds himself at a loss for words, breath stuck in his lungs. Not daring to utter a single syllable. His heart pounding against his eardrums.

It's moving now. Running as the familiar sound is audible yet again and suddenly all Gary can find his eyes greeting is light, nothing but bright white that forces his eyes shut at the burning pain.

He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand why he's not gone, crushed flat against the harsh ground below him, why hasn't the Onix just charged hi—

 _A roar_.

An utterly terrifying, guttural roar that shakes him to his very core is made audible.

Gary feels chills running down his arms, legs and neck, unbridled feelings of fear blossoming inside his thoughts.

The cave's bright now, far too bright and it's with sudden rememberance of his supposed terror and end that Gary finds himself forcing his brown gaze to open again, to see just what's going on; why he's not gone yet.

Meeting his vision, his brown gaze widening amongst the terribly painful light, is the terrifyingly illuminated stony facade of his would-be demise, Onix.

Wait, why is its face.. being _pushed_ away? Why is it _thrown_ backwards at the force of..

Soaring across his vision in a violent burst of pure power, is a watergun.

Twice as wide, large and a hundred times more intense than what his first partner could've ever have mustered up. Where's Squi— _Squirtle?_

"Squirtle..?" Mumbling those words in sheer exhaustion, in pure desperate hope, the light dies down to reveal his savior. Yet it's not his bumbling, childish partner that stands before him.

It's his.. his _Wartortle_ , wavey and bulbous tail, its large fluffed ears.

There's no mistaking it, wide-eyed as he simply recieves a glance shot askance over the shoulder of his savior, of his protector. Sharp vibrant purple giving him a measured look before turning back. And it's with a _real_ roar, filled with the hormonal angst and anger you'd only hear after such a desperate evolution, that Wartortle shows off his watergun yet again.

His would-be end, that terrible adult Onix, is simply pushed away by the sheer force of his partners attack. Finding itself completely outmatched in strength and having been completely exhausted beforehand, his own exhausted mind only points him towards that this, this is...

It's a won battle.

A won battle for their survival.

And it's with a meek roar compared to that of Wartortle that the adult Onix seems to realize what had just occured aswell, slithering its way backwards in momentary panic. Suddenly finding itself forced to attempt to weave and dodge the numerous large and very terrifying spears of liquid. It's with a low roar compared to its numerous prideful others before that it looks to be forcibly trying to steer itself away from the second-stage evolution that's glaring it down with lethal intent.

Rearing upwards, beady black pupils shining with actual fear, Onix starts to crash its head against the very ground it calls home. Burrowing itself downwards with hasty momentum into its abode before long.

It's quiet.

Pleasantly so.

Gary allows a brief breath to escape him, before everything comes cascading down. His lungs burning for the air he hadn't dared breathe this entire time, so he gulps it down greedily. Coughing and spluttering as he feels his limbs drain of all power, collapsing down and cushioning his fall is simply his trusty, half-way mushed backpack.

His tired mind having enough presence to locate his furry partners steps. Walking up on all four to guard him, Mankey simply stares up in pure ponderous puzzlement at the hard-shelled back of Wartortle.

Turning his head upwards, neck aching to catch a glimpse of just where his normally furious fighting-type is staring, he's met with the same reliable hard-shelled back of his buddy.

Gary rises up as best he can, limbs shaking as it's with a crawl that he finds himself moving towards his first partner, his bumbling little hard-shelled friend that's not so bumbling any longer.

And he hugs him, murmuring his thanks, his heartfelt thanks.

"Thank you," he tightens his grip around the first pokémon he'd always treasure, "knew I could count on you, bud.."

* * *

It's quiet for a few minutes, allowing the young trainer to clear his mind, his aching head and shaking limbs.

Taking his time to catch his breath and allow his adrenaline rush to die down, Gary finds himself quite comfortable in staying where they are. Mostly because it doesn't hurt when he's not attempting to move like a magikarp out of water.

After the show Squ— sorry Wartortle, had given them. It's unlikely their previous threat will resume their chase for some time.

That doesn't mean he doesn't just want to run and get as far away from this place as he can. Because he does, oh man does he just want to leave this horrible cave already, but it's as much of a quiet moment they've had for quite a long period of time now.

Standing up with only minor difficulties this time, clutching at the brief and very dull throb of pain from his tortured side that had taken a ride on the cavern floor, Gary rises fully and finds himself checking over his backpack.

Hoping to anyone out there that's listening that his other spare flashlights hadn't been trashed aswell, the Oak heir allows himself a small smile of triumph as he picks up a fresh flashlight. His third one today.

Turning it on, surveying the torn field around them, Gary immediately finds himself remembering the two additional Onix that had pestered their group.

Swerving around to his right, to where his furry partner had fought with the giant rock-type, the young trainer finds nothing but a freshly dug pit that's clearly signifying how it'd begun to flee along with the adult Onix.

His furry partner had won then. It brings a brief smile to his tired features.

Overhearing a scrape, pebbles being grinded against solid earth. Faintly familiar sounds of a large rock-type in agony finally reaching his ears, Gary Oak whirls around to his left where Wartortle had fought his own Onix.

 _It's still there._

Greeting his gaze, the writhing and shaking form of an Onix, much smaller than Brocks own stone-snake and certainly smaller in size than the adult and aged one they'd originally fought. It's with a quick realization that Gary remembers just how brutally and efficiently his hard-shelled partner had dispatched the large creature.

With the same tactic they'd employed against Brock.

But wouldn't that—

Wouldn't it mean that without any help it'd just simply..?

It's with those words, of the mere thought of such an enevitable demise that the young trainer finds himself in a moment of questioning sanity, feeling _bad_ for the Onix. Abandoned by most-likely its own family to die in slow torturous agony as the water continues to invade its insides. His potions won't remedy the damage already done, and without any professional help in the form of his gramps or any pokémon center, this Onix will simply meet its end.

Gritting his teeth, shaking his head— Gary won't allow it to come to such grave consequences.

He's not so heartless as to just leave it, so it's with a shaking grip that he digs into his trainer belt and finds an empty container notched upon it. Walking closer on unsteady limbs, Gary realizes it hasn't noticed them through the pain. Likely having forgotten all about them as the agony just continues seizelessly.

Wartortle and Mankey stare after him, perhaps questioning his sanity aswell, but he can't do this. He can't let any creature suffer that hadn't wronged them, and while it had attacked them it's also due to the adult Onix that had enraged part of its colony due to their gal in invading this part of the cavern. Gary doesn't want that on his conciousness.

He didn't do it with Mankey, and he won't start doing it with this Onix.

Pressing down upon the sphericals devices button, it primes itself for catching; and it's with a weak and shaking throw that Gary finds their immediate vicinity illuminated in a brief red as the large writhing stone-snake is sucked into the ball.

Falling down upon the dirty rubble beneath, the ball shakes as the strong-willed rock-type fights against whatever had sucked it into stasis like it had against the excrutiating pain.

A few seconds go by, the ball quietly rocking back and forth before it stills completely. Comfortable stasis finally winning out, the button upon it flashing a quick red to signify a complete capture.

Re-adjusting the loose strap of his backpack as he wanders up, bending down with some difficulty to pick up their potential new partner, Gary Oak finds himself lost in thought for a few seconds.

This wasn't the ideal partner he'd had in mind when he first entered this cave, both his feelings and heart soaring towards the dependable sandshrews that roam it. Even the zubats had been more of a priority than an Onix.

But.

He's not disappointed, far from it actually. Because, if this is the off-spring from that horrible and adult Onix? It'll become a complete monster when raised correctly.

Gary finds his lips moving back into his familiar wild grin despite all.

Shooting a look over his shoulder at his awaiting duo of already-made monsters, beckoning them forward with a two-fingered wave, he finds sudden peace amongst the chaotic wake of their battle.

"Let's get out of here before they come back, eh?"

* * *

These past few days had been a breeze compared to their originally hectic days inside Mt. Moon.

"Back off and let Wartortle cover up, Mankey!"

Mostly because it looks like nothing short of an entire flock of zubats would probably stand a chance against his two partners right now. They've been progressing through the cave system with more haste, more carefree now as they feel secure and familiar amongst the darkness.

"Don't let up with the waterguns and start chasing, it's trying to roll away!"

Both of his partners kick off in pursuit, two terrifying beasts versus a lone graveller that probably curses it'd ever been caught in their sights. A roar befit of his turtles new stature is released, ear-deafening and equally as spine-chilling as the first time he'd heard it.

The torrent released by his hard-shelled partner should barely be classified as a watergun anymore according to himself, the difference in sheer volume along with power that's staggering.

Graveller unfurls as the command reaches it, perhaps readying itself for a final showdown that's inevitable.

Perhaps they've been jaded by their terrifying battle with the three Onix, filled with close-calls and mixed feelings. It's not so difficult to assume that Gary feels like each battle with a geodude or even a graveller that cross their path isn't really that thrilling anymore.

The gravellers actions doesn't matter, the impact of the watergun in question resounding with loud smack as it connects square on the rock-types crest. Groaning as it rolls backwards from the force, Gary fires off a quick command to his furry partner at the reprieve;

"Mankey run after the other graveller and don't let it escape, we can't have it attract more!" It's understood with a quick screech, the furball with unending energy kicking off with glee as it starts to chase down the species it calls its arch-enemy.

Maybe it's because he feels like he's commanding with a more absolute tone of voice, his partners making up for their own weaknesses with eachother and listening to his orders without fail. Is this what his gramps wanted him to achieve? To further his own progress alongside his partners?

The large offending graveller that had been threatening to escape their vicious clutches attempts to ready itself for battle, to square up against the only fighting-type that'd relish to beat it down a hundred times more if he'd need to. Perhaps if it'd been a simple one-on-one it would've been a battle for survival, but they're not opperating alone anymore.

"Wartortle, fire off some quick shots towards the other graveller!" Gary roars, pointing down where both of them had decided to have their scuffle. Sharp brown gaze lingering on the turtles own opponent that hadn't recovered fully yet.

Quick purple eyes trail after his finger and down his line-of-sight without question. And it's with a spit or two of lethal liquid that he merely flicks it towards the offending second graveller before resuming his steady barrage against his own opponent.

"Take advantage of it, go in for a Low Kick against any part of the body you can hit!"

Yes, they've changed. It feels like a missing piece of their little clockwork puzzle had fallen into place. Finally moving like a team, concious of eachothers movements and catering to each of the individual pieces needs.

It works like a charm. The combined efforts of the graveller having to avoid the flicks of liquid that'd still hurt tremendously from above and a rage-filled monster attempting to kick it from down-under leaving no room for evasive manouvers. It's enough to force their opponent to take damage no matter how they move, fluid and understood within seconds by all three parties.

Gary finds himself smiling proudly at the feeling of growth.

Two loosely shaped spears of liquid hits the struggling form of graveller as the rock-type moves in to intercept Mankey.

It's not perfect, far from it actually. But it's the first feeling of cohesion Gary can ever remember feeling from their family. It had always been sparring, one-on-one matches and no real time to experience the real world and its dangers.

Now, they've simply tasted it.

"Don't even bother Mankey, back off!" with a resounding screech made audible, the furry menace backs away with a spray of pebbles kicked up before they connect. Allowing the graveller to not only take full damage from the water-type attack, but recieve nothing in return.

A wild grin tugs at the edge of his lips as he flicks his gaze back towards their first opponent, "Keep your graveller from getting up with another watergun, Wartortle!"

It's shot without question, his turtles unending trust when it comes to his orders working in tandem with the intense yet controlled savagery of his furry partner. The graveller on Wartortles side rolls backwards yet again at the force of impact, groaning audibly with sounds comparable to rocks grinding on rocks. It's no match for his friend.

"Send some shots down to the other one, keep it at bay and we'll clean up!"

A roar of acceptance, Wartortle rears his head backwards within the constrains of his shell, zeroing in on the struggling form of the second graveller trying to anticipate the next move of the fighting-type.

Letting loose perhaps the most terrifying barrage of waterguns to date, Garys wild grin only grows further. Quickly tearing his eyes away from the display of power, the young trainer spots his furball growing restless as he keeps attempting to dodge weak Rock Throws.

"Have fun and do as you like, Mankey!" It's the least he can do in reward for such good behaviour, no?

Darting forward at his command, dodging a watergun projectile from Wartortle that's dangerously close to connecting with him with an annoyed screech. Mankey kicks off the ground in an impressive show of agility as the former round of watergun shots connect with the offending rock-type.

It roars in defiance and in pain yet it's impossible to shake his furry partner off now. Mankey climbing and gripping onto the surface of graveller as he swings himself past a set of burly arms, tucking flat against the rock-types surface as the other set of limbs attempts to get a grip in. It's steered away with a swift kick glowing white soon after, pushing the limb that'd reached out to grab him backwards.

Using the momentum of the gravellers balance being knocked off by the Low Kick, the ferocious bundle of fur cracks yet another few quick kicks towards the back of the rock-type for good measure. Groaning and rumbling his discontent, it's soon followed by sheer quiet resignation of its fate. Infact it's almost humorous with how the little fighting-type starts smacking the poor rock-type with ceaseless energy paired along with several Karate Chops.

It's quick and as brutally effective as Gary could've imagine. Graveller dropping to the ground in a crash, unconcious, as Mankey simply hobbles off of it.

Figuring that he'd probably done enough, it's with pride that Gary finds himself staring at the furball as he sullenly makes his way back towards his trainer without even asking, knuckles dragging behind him.

Slow and sure steps comes up from his right, Wartortle lumbering his way towards him and as he flashes the hard-shelled creature a thumbs-up, it's only returned with a brief grin of his partners new tusk-filled maw.

Perhaps evolution had gotten rid of some personality containing the bubbly little creature he'd come to know as his Squirtle, but it hadn't erased him completely.

It makes the Oak heir feel at ease.

Still, all of this carnage being justified is probably his own poor tortured nerves that hadn't begun functioning again after that horrible day. He feels like they're breezing through everything without a shred of doubt, but maybe it's a good thought to ponder over.

As dramatic as it is, there's a clear difference as they steadily making their way through dank and dimly lit cavern rooms filled with opponents as he finds his thoughts filled with just how different they must appear compared to the fear-stricken trainer and his childish partners that had entered the cave originally. There's nothing else but dark walls and rocks anyhow so he's left with his thoughts mostly.

But hey, what better way to spend them than beating up the local wildlife?

"It's getting late, you two."

His two partners peer up at him before slowly offering their own set of nods.

"Let's get going, I'm sure we'll find some corner to crash in."

* * *

Not everything has been so normal and fluid though, Gary finds himself realizing.

He didn't even notice it the first day after their run-in with the Onix. His two partners, enarmoured in their usual gruff small-talk as they sit down for lunch and dinner between spelunking through Mt. Moon. Completely ordinary, it feels like nothing has changed at all.

Naive, that's what Gary feels like he is, thinking back upon their second day since the battle.

He'd woken up in the middle of their brief stop for the night, struggling to realize that he's not asleep as he'd opened his eyes and they meet with pure darkness.

Rubbing at his sleep-ridden gaze, pushing his hair away from them in minor irritation, Gary crawls over with a brief wince to his backpack as his stomach rumbles in hunger.

Quietly going about digging into his pack, knowing his two partners are asleep, the tell-tale sound of his furry partners trout snorting with each exhale colouring the dark surroundings of their makeshift camp with the feeling of home. He doesn't notice the lack of his first partners snoring.

Biting into a packet of dried tauros jerky he'd been forced to sustain himself on the past day or so, Gary Oak steers his eyesight to lazily stare out at the dark environment surrounding them.

Sharp brown latches onto a heavy dark-purple staring back at him.

Feeling ponderous at first, figuring that maybe his old buddy hadn't been able to sleep properly like himself, Gary waves a brief hand in a quiet greeting, lowly offering up his explaination.

"Feeling hungry, figured I'd get a late snack in y'know?" he mumbles between bites.

His words are met with his partners sharp, no-nonsense nod before the indigo-blue Wartortle slowly cranes his head back to out to stare out into the darkness of Mt. Moon.

Curious, and unusual. Gary tilts his head in apparent puzzlement. Feeling his brow quirk naturally at the attitude of his hard-shelled friend, his thoughts starting to function properly with each bite of his jerky.

It's with his brown gaze snapping to just how his newly-evolved pokémons fur-bedecked ears twitch with each miniscule movement, each little crunch of his dried jerky, that Gary starts to connect a few dots.

 _He's standing guard_ Gary realizes, blinking dumbly at his discovery.

Refusing to sleep and staying up during their nightly breaks, he's remaining as their watchful protector even as they turn in for the night, not allowing himself to feel calm and relaxed amongst the dangers lurking in these caves.

His turtle had always been protective, endearing most of the time and not at all threatening to wreak havoc on his own health. But this?

It's with a heavy sigh of his own that Gary realizes just how different it must feel for his Wartortle now. The hormonal rush, barely felt in his pre-evolved form gearing up to rear its ugly head in a tremendous fashion with his newly-evolved mind.

Territoral behavior, fierce protectiveness over family, it's no wonder his partner feels the need to stand guard in his bewildered state.

"You don't really need to babysit our camp at night, y'know that right?" he murmurs with a brief tug of his lips, grinning.

Spotting how his Wartortles fluffy-furred ears twitch and turn at the slightest noise he makes, even with mere talking, Gary only feels his smile take on an melancholy tone instead.

"You'll also need sleep eventually, and we can't take anymore breaks tomorrow if we want to reach Cerulean," Gary speaks with a more lighter tone, as encouraging as he'd ever allow it to be.

His words are taken with a stoic silence, the only sign that his partner had actually listened being the familiar twitch of fluffed ears.

Feeling a frown tug at his lips instead, the usual itch of irritation threatening to take hold of his bearings. Gary simply allows a cool breeze to pass his lips, starting to shake his head at the stubborness of his first partner.

"I'm not going to go off running in search of a new Onix if that's what you're worried about," Gary attempts to speak his mind, to get his point across to the stubborn turtle.

"We've survived every night so far with just a few hours of shut-eye without you feeling like you need to protect us," he adds, arching a brow as if daring the turtle to disagree with him on that front.

Turning his head, Wartortle stares back at him with a brief look, filled with the fierce protectiveness Gary would've expected and full of the exhaustion tormenting his still young frame, pestering his mind with ideas of unseen threats.

Despite the tug in his heart at seeing his friend in such a state, Gary knows it's because of these recent changes. That he's just confused, bewildered and not quite used to his new form yet. It'll pass with time, but he's got to make sure it's not all bad for his puzzled partner.

So he chuckles good-naturedly despite all, offering up a grin of his features before he starts to beckon his hard-shelled friend over with a wave of his hand.

Shooting him a strange look, Wartortle gives himself a few last glances back towards the offending darkness surrounding their camp, ever the serious and vigilant watchtower. Probably feeling like he shouldn't refuse his trainers orders—he rises with his newfound manouverability.

Wartortle seems to drag on however, stopping briefly with each step of secure footing, his turtle not willing to leave his sights upon the dimly lit cave so easily despite his words. Gary speaks up yet again without hurry, encouraging half-smile never fading.

"C'mon, you can keep a lookout from over here, bud." Immediately waving his hand to beckon his friend over once more, it turns into a yawn that he covers up swiftly.

This time, Wartortle does comply with his wishes, lumbering over without as much of a stumble as his pre-evolved form would've had. More self-assured, more grown-up.

So it's with an indignant cry unbefit of his new stature that Wartortle finds his arm tugged. Brought down almost forcefully into the embrace of his trainer, hard shell colliding with said human far harsher than originally intended.

"Didn't think that one through, did I?" Gary wheezes out as he feels air drain from his lungs, his kidneys screaming their protests at the cumbersome added weight.

The hard-shelled back coming to rest against his trainers chest in their clumsy and uncomfortable stumble, the turtle rumbling with some akin to deep resentment of his current predicament. But the young trainer knows it's all in jest.

So it's with some brief feelings of nostalgia that Garys chin comes to rest atop the Wartortles dome after a minute or two, silent content and sheer exhaustion guiding his actions.

Just like the day they'd started out together on this journey, when Gary had been the troubled one.

If Wartortle recognizes the significance, he doesn't say it. But as the tense frame slowly comes to relax a fraction in his lazy embrace, Gary knows its working to ease up his hard-working friends stress.

"You hungry?"

A grunt of apparent dismissal made audible, Gary offers up a warm laugh in return.

"Yeah I know. I don't have any berries this time, my bad bud."

Muffled, his partners more deep laughter rumbles through him, and Gary finds himself knowing that it'll all be okay with time.

They're a family, afterall.

* * *

"Just keep pushing Mankey—I can see some light through the rocks!"

It's with a fierce shriek, built from their frustrating endeavour this past half-hour to push past the _blocked_ exit of Mt. Moon that's riddled with oversized rocks, that his fighting-type starts smacking the offending rocks repeatedly in his indignation, screeching all the while. His turtle looking on with raised brows at the irritated bundle of ferocity.

Shrugging as he finds said raised brows focus on him, he can't really explain his friends behavior either. Gary ponders over the possiblity of using any abilities to power their way through, and it's with sudden relief that he realizes just what an upgrade it'd be to his furry partner smacking the hard rocks like ill-made pest.

"Alright, Mankey use Karate Chop to get us throu—!" He's cut off before he's even had time to finish it.

Mankey starts kicking it instead with a frustrated shriek, his thin legs barely making the rocks move in their stable opposition. Barely listening to any background noise at all in his ill-tempered state.

Rolling his eyes, wondering just why in the world he'd captured such a single-minded creature, he raises his voice, "Mankey!"

Furious red turns themselves on him, trout exhaling in its vicious anger of banging its fists against offending rocks. He looks up at his trainer with atleast _more_ clarity than before, and that's an overstatement.

Measuring his words carefully, equally as eager to get through to the otherside and see sunlight for the first time in almost a week, Gary speaks up.

"How about we stop trying to smack this rock so its ancestors will feel your knuckle-prints on them hundred years from now on, and actually use a _Low Kick_ or _Karate Chop_ , doesn't that sound better?" he suggests.

Wartortle stiffles a grin just as quickly as it had appeared.

His bundle of savagery stares up at him for a few seconds, stilling in its erratic movements for another few seconds, perhaps in realization of his much brighter idea.

And it's with a loud screech, in thanks or just to annoy them the young trainer can't guess, that white energy starts to imbue itself into the legs of his furry partner.

Taking a few measured steps backwards, going down on all fours, Mankey starts to charge forward with a fierce shriek as he jumps upwards and towards the offending wall of rocks.

With a shockwave that threatens to cave in the exit a second time, rubble gets sent flying outwards from the cavern wall of Mt. Moon. Opening up a new entrance, perhaps permanently with how large of a hole they blew through, it sends the flowing scent of fresh air through the newly renovated cave passage.

Said wonder of the world urging the three to climb out of the wreckage with unbridled haste, relishing in the pure joy of finally feeling the light breeze and summer scent of the real world.

Shielding his eyes as he traverses through the numerous pieces of rubble present in the grass, Gary can just feel the warmth hitting his skin, the forgotten blazing summer of Kanto hitting him in full swing in contrast to the cold and dank cavern walls of Mt. Moon.

Looking out over the horizon, the sight of buildings unseen for a week, of civilization and other people to just have a conversation with, Gary feels like he might've just aswell arrived in paradise.

"We did it," he breathes, slightly manic in tone, "we're in Cerulean you two!"

Two pairs of eyes glue themselves to him, and it's with a brief look towards eachother that they both offer up a miniscule nod. Both agreeing on one thing. The only thing any creature would await at exiting such a terrible cavern;

That they both start sprinting.

Rushing ahead and through the throes of grass and weed covering the field before them, vocalizing their happiness in being free from that horrible cave, they express their excitement through loud roars and shrieks of happiness.

Stunned for barely a moment, Gary starts running after them with a slight delay, shouting his indignant response at being left behind.

"Hey!"

Laughter and snorts meets his voice, his legs driving him forward through the field and after his friends.

"Don't just start running ahead without me, you little pieces of—!"

And so, the trio finally meets Cerulean City.

* * *

Gary can't ever remember being in a city like this before.

Buildings so tall you'd figure even the largest of pokémon wouldn't have a chance of towering over them. Pristine tiles and windows just about everywhere you look, it's a clear difference to the streets of Viridian. Those filled with more aged materials, worn with time.

It's also safe to say that he'd never seen to many people congregate at once. Each sidewalk packed with people going about their everyday lives, clumsily pushing past him in their haste.

The Oak heir finds himself strolling through Cerulean right now, his two partners sticking close to either of his sides as they both seem to be mesmerized by the spectacle. Several different carts with cheerful and charismatic salesmen and women littering the sidewalks they travel along, filled with numerous goods he can't even wrap his head around having thought about aquiring before. Pokéballs, potions and even food could be seen as far as his eyes could reach amongst the bustling population.

"Get your greatballs here, the most cost-effective upgrade to your standard mart-bought pokéballs!" one of them hollers as he walks past, "double your success rate and capture the pokémon of your dreams!"

It's all very eye-catching and he'd be stupid and a liar if he said the offer didn't sound lucrative at all. He would've most likely pounced right away at such an offer if he hadn't managed to capture enough friends already. Gary can't help but feeling quite content with his quota of creatures in his care so far.

But if that wasn't enough to grab his interest, it would seem each corner he turns inside this wonder of a city he's met with a different pokémart catering to each miniscule little detail of his needs. Each advertising their own brand of specialization when it comes to either antidotes or simply offering a more rare type of capture device. Pokémon repellant, survival gear for the more outgoing or simply a theme centered around contests.

So this is what it means to be in a big city. The accessability, the sheer size and most of all the choice.

Could even _he_ say he'd thought about buying the new gold-standard for brushes to groom his creatures to perfection before going through the shopping district? No, he couldn't, but atleast these horrible fiends after his wallet had made him ponder over it.

Furious red threatening to relentlessly tear through him as if he'd as much as attempt to get near with such a brush is what really holds him back here.

Stiffling a grin as he politely waves away another saleswoman scurrying up to him with a basket in hand, presumably having thought about attempting to offer him some over-priced wax judging by her hungry stare at his hard-shelled friend, It'd probably have been paired along with some asinine insistance that Wartortles shell was a mere fraction of its potential beauty.

A sharp look from said turtle seems to make her keep her distance however, tusks on either side of his partners maw looking like they just want to tear through something with the grimace he's making.

She simply mumbles her fading apologies without a second glance, redirecting her efforts to dig her claws into the next passerby with renewed determination. It's really vicious now that he's gotten a few more seconds to observe it.

Shrugging his shoulders at the puzzled gaze belonging to his Mankey, Gary simply continues to wander through the shopping district of Cerulean in peace. No real goal in mind right now as he's mostly just trying to get a feel of the numerous stores locations, enjoying some quality time to simply just be a normal person after the week he'd had.

Finding his eyes glue themselves to a sign ahead that reads; _The Sensational Sisters Evening Extravaganza_ , Gary finds himself lost in thought as they keep progressing through the full and bustling streets of his second major stop on this journey.

He'd originally set out to find the pokémon center here in the city. Mostly to get both of his friends checked out and get them to heal up fully before they attempt to start their respective training regiments again, but also to see over his new family members well-being.

Onix.

To be honest, the only reason he hadn't gone straight to the pokémon center to begin with was that he feels like he should atleast properly think this through. The large stone-snake would be a part of their tight-knit group from now on. Almost six times his own height, weighing more than he could've ever imagined, it's a monster in its own right.

That means he'll need to go about this smartly, to cater to its needs as best he can without seeming too desperate. His two partners can certainly handle the large rock-type if it'd decide to thrash around during its initial release, but it'll be a challenge of just how to get it to understand his decision.

Gary doesn't know its personality, its quirks and other familiar things he'd come to learn and witness in his own partners. To understand them better.

Staring down at his Wartortle lumbering on ahead of him, thoughts filled with silent resignation of their coming weeks. Gary resolves to go over what he knows, anything to make this process easier for their whole team.

The info on his pokédex had not only given him the much needed time in getting to know the specices, but also some valuable information on the Onix that he had caught in particular.

Rock Slide, Tackle, Harden, Bind, Dig, Rock Tomb along with Slam.

A great moveset to start out with, an effective long-range move in the form of Rock Slide and a powerhouse in close combat along with the utility of Rock Tomb. He couldn't have asked for a better foundation to build on, really.

It's also a female, and according to his pokédex it's not much older than a few months. This means that it has probably had some time to come to terms with its wild environment and traits, similar to his Mankey.

Feeling a brief shudder course through him as he side-steps two noisy teenagers pushing past him, Gary feels like he's got another savage on his hands. An eight meter long savage that weighs four times as much as he does.

He'd managed to tame his furballs wild edge however. Atleast to a managable level where he can give an order and have it heeded. Pride and stubborness were the straits of fighting-types, not easily overcome and based on acknowledgment. Just what in the world would it be with rock-types? Foolhardy and sturdy? Wise and patient? He has no idea.

Gary feels like he can theorize all he wants, but nothing will come of it before he's got his Onix back on the road of steady recovery.

Lips thin, he signals for both Wartortle and Mankey to follow him across the road as he spots a sign that reads; _Pokémon Center 500m._ He's almost tempted to just keep strolling through the city, to see what it has to offer beyond what he's already seen. But he's got plenty of hours to kill after this, it wouldn't hurt to get it over and done with.

Onix shouldn't stay in stasis for too long, it'd be cruel despite it being suspended from feeling anything. Nurse Joy probably wouldn't let him see it for atleast a few days, so he's got plenty of time to think over the details needed for their first meeting.

It'd be a good time to book his room for the coming weeks in Cerulean aswell. A warm bed to sleep in and to actually have a choice of something that isn't dried tauros jerky. It's heavenly in comparison to Mt. Moon.

Steering his eyesight upwards, Gary finds the terribly large tower that is the Cerulean City pokémon center peaking above the other numerous buildings. The large logo of a pokéball a clear landmark for all trainers present in the city, including himself.

Feeling himself wishing to get on with this already, he looks back at his two friends.

"C'mon, it's not far now. You'll get to rest for a few hours before we start training again, alright?" Gary shoots over to his partners.

They both remove their gaze from the large building and up towards him, nodding their concession of his words.

"I've got to get Onix some help before we leave though," he starts, having their complete attention with just the mere mention of their third family member.

Wartortle quirks a fleshy brow at him, nodding yet again in understanding. Perhaps pondering over just what he's trying to tell them.

"And when we finally get to have our introductions in a few days, I want you two to be on your best behavior." They both simply blink up at him, staring blankly afterwards as if he'd lost his mind.

Perhaps the memory of a dark cave filled with desperation and terrifying roars is abit too fresh for all parties.

Rolling his eyes, Gary tries to stay positive amongst it all. He understands their fears, he really does. But it's not like he'll be threatened with both of them on his side to ensure his well-being. Maybe they've experienced a few close-calls that had rattled them all, but that doesn't mean they should be judgmental.

"I'm serious, I don't want you two treating Onix with contempt just because you've got a grudge. She'll be with us from now on, with or without your agreement," Gary explains with finality.

A languid snort meets his ears, along with grumbling in the form of his turtle.

Heaving a sigh his old geezer would commend him for, Gary realizes they're just being uptight and wary of the first meeting that could go either way. Protective and honest in their appreciation of him and their wishes of not seeing him crushed flat against cavern floor. And to be honest himself, he's equally as worried if not _more_.

But it'd do them no favors if they're aggressive as they start building their friendship with the large rock-type. Inclusion and camaraderie goes a long way in attempting to sprout budding trust between himself and Onix.

Unhooking his two partners containers from his trainer belt, he turns towards them as they stop right below the stone stairs leading up to the large pokémon center. The herds of people congregating around the large building, each with their own numerous and colorful creatures by their sides.

"We'll see eachother in a few hours, and you both better get ready to start working your asses off if we're ever gonna have a chance against the gym-leader here," Gary comments with a brief smirk of his features.

It's mirrored by his hard-shelled friend, by the furious passion of burning red. It's all he needs to see to feel motivated again.

"Get some rest, you two." Promptly returning both of them in their pokéballs, Gary starts walking up the long stairs leading up to their brief stop for the day.

* * *

Finally having the chance to address the pokémon centers current nurse on duty, Gary eagerly walks up to the front desk as the trainer that had been there previously ducks out and away from sight, having completed whatever he'd had in mind.

"Hello and welcome to the Cerulean City pokémon center," Nurse Joy starts with a practiced smile, "How may I help you?"

"I'd like to have these two," Gary explains as he digs up his two partners containers with practiced ease, placing them upon the ready tray before him, "get some much needed rest, and also a brief checkup of my Wartortle." He's had this planned out from the five minutes he'd been in que here at the center.

Nurse Joy quirks her pink brow at him, tapping away at the computer present before speaking, "Ofcourse, any specific reason?" It's a question filled with brief curiosity. Mostly care and health related Gary guesses.

"He evolved a few days ago, I haven't had the chance to see if it'd gone as smoothly as it seems," the young trainer explains with a brief smirk filled with pride, "Figured I'd ask and see if anything could help me clear up my worries." he finishes with an honest touch. Smirk making way for a very well-practiced smile.

Nurse Joy actually looks to be smiling genuinely at his words, "Ofcourse, Mr. Oak—and congratulations," she speaks with sincerity, eyes slowly trailing back towards the computer screen as deft fingers starts tapping away yet again, "Anything else we can help you with?" He's not going to bother with how she knows his name, his gramps works wonders sometimes and he's not about to question it.

Gary nods slowly, smile thinning out as he feels his nerves start to function at the worst time possible, "Actually, you can."

Grabbing the third ball notched upon his trainer belt with clumsy fingers, he gingerly brings it up and places it amongst the other two before speaking.

"I captured this Onix in Mt. Moon, and we didn't exactly go about it in the most painless way possible," Gary starts, feeling the brief beginning of sweat starting to form as Nurse Joy suddenly turns a more stony gaze to his features. The nurses could be downright terrifying under the wrong circumstances.

"May I ask what's wrong with this Onix?" Yet again, it's a question filled with curiosity. Equally as engaged by care and health, but also the safety of the creature in question. He wouldn't be surprised if they'd confiscate any pokémon deemed unfit to be returned to the trainer due to neglect or abuse. Rumors does get started with some degree of truth most of the time.

Thankfully, this wasn't the case.

"Wartortle fired off a few waterguns, some of them were inhaled by Onix," Gary explains with simplicity, direct and to the point. There's no reason to beat around the bush like a rattata for a caterpie.

"Internal systems affected by liquid?" Nurse Joy doesn't bother looking up at him as she continues to type, most-likely filling out his order and wishes as they speak.

"Yup, I captured her about a few minutes after it had started." It's spoken with something akin to regret, his own thoughts drifting away briefly to just how long it had been before he'd noticed the large rock-type.

"I'd advice you to be ready for atleast a few days wait time," she starts, mulling over her words for a brief second before continuing, "these types of injuries can take anywhere from a day to a full two weeks depending on the severity and amount of liquid."

Gary dumbly nods along, lips thin as he simply wishes for this to be over with. He's reprimanded himself more than enough during those few days he'd had after the battle.

"I'm fine with that, I just want her to be alright."

Nurse Joys stern gaze seem to soften marginally at his words, nodding absentmindedly as she finishes up the order. "You can return in a few hours to pick up your two pokémon, they'll be as good as new," she explains, informing him of his previous partners visit, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Gary's just about to ensure her that he's fine and thank her until his mind decides to inform him of just what he'd missed this entire conversation. His room, he couldn't very well stay in Cerulean without a bed when they've come this far!

"Actually," Gary starts with more haste, overhearing someone groaning behind him as he takes up even more of the nurses time, "I'd like to book a room, preferably for a week."

Nurse Joy smiles faintly, at the trainer behind him making his annoyance known or simply at his timing of ordering a room he can't tell, but it's a reassuring and calming sight, "Ofcourse, with enough room for two pokémon aswell?"

Gary blinks slowly, taken back by the offer. They certainly hadn't offered it in Viridian any time he stayed there nor in Pewter. Perhaps the Cerulean center was better equipped and ready to clean up after each individual? There's always the danger of having fire-types set pillow cases ablaze or electric-types frying the circuits, but if they're offering their services who was he to deny? His bud and furball would enjoy some time out of their respective containers.

"That'd be great," Gary agrees, nodding his encouragment of the decision.

Reaching over to her right, she simply grabs a keycard before guiding it downwards, running the black line on it across the device below her before she simply offers it up towards him, "Room 4-F, second floor."

Ushering him off with a brief goodbye as he grabs it, seeing as he'd offered up everything that was notched upon his trainer belt, Gary stumbles away from the front desk as the stranger behind him pushes past with grumbles made audible. Speaking up about some clefairy he'd captured.

Murmurming something beneath his breath, Gary trudges onwards towards the elevator present in the lobby. Excited to spend some quality time to simply sleep in a clean and warm bed.

That is, until he finds his eyes drawn to the green videophones littering this section of the pokémon centers wall.

 _Gramps._

Finding his positive thoughts filled with promises of relaxation and sleep disappearing in an instant, the young trainer understands what needs to be done. He hadn't called his gramps for a week and he'd wandered off to Mt. Moon of all places.

Gary wouldn't put it past his old geezer to be worried out of his mind, and for that simple reason alone he finds himself compelled to wander over.

Absentmindedly pushing in the number he's got memorized like the back of his hand, he sits himself down upon the chair in front of the videophone. Finding a grim smile plastered onto his features.

Grim for the sole reason of; _Why?_

He'd had many hours of freetime during those last few days of Mt. Moon to question his gramps decision to have him wander straight into the awaiting home of an Onix. Did his gramps know? Was it a mistake on his own part to frequently ask so much about just that specific area of the cave as he grew up?

Just what had prompted his old geezer to force him through that whole ordeal?

It rings for a few moments. It's the personal number of the aged professor afterall, and his gramps could be busy for any number of reasons.

Suddenly, the screen flares to life as his own brown gaze come to stare back at the aged light-brown of his gramps. He finds his anger and frustration almost melt away as he spots the same graying hair-do he'd come to know and love.

Joy, relief and warmth spark in said eyes, "Gary!" he starts with a booming voice, smile almost infectous as he offers up the same one Gary can remember leaving behind, "I was almost starting to get worried with how long it'd been, but I see you've made your way through to Cerulean!"

"You know me Gramps," he starts, the incredible ease of which he'd always spoken to with his grandpa coming back to him naturally, "I can't really stop if I decide to do things my way, sorry if I worried your old nerves."

Scoffing, his gramps speaks up, "Don't I know it, but come on now my boy, I'm sure you've got fascinating tales of your own adventures to share!" chuckling as he finishes, Samuel Oak looks plenty excited at the prospects of his own words.

Gary finds it hard to share the old mans sentiments when it comes to just this subject and he knows it's something he'll have to bring it up quickly.

His gramps knows him better than anyone and would easily see if he's bothered by anything. It's best to avoid getting hounded by questions which he could easily avoid by simply explaining and asking his own inquiries.

"Actually," the young Oak starts, mulling over his words shortly before continuing, "I've got a question for you gramps, and I'd really like to have it answered as honestly as you can, alright?"

Perhaps sensing his serious mood, Samuel Oak instantly quells his cheerful self, a frown blossoming on his aged visage momentarily, "Ofcourse, Gary—ask away as much as you'd like," it's spoken with encouragment, offering to hear out his frustrations and bothers like he always had.

"Why did you send me to go through an Onix colony without telling me?"

His old geezers brow furrows immediately at his words, "I'm afraid I don't understand, I told you to go through an Onix colo—?"

His gramps eyes widen in an almost comical manner, but it's the pure unbridled fear and pale skin-tone that his old geezers face seem to take on that keeps his own lungs from functioning properly.

It's almost whispered, quiet and reserved for him and him only, "You didn't—" he starts, lips thin and his voice bordering on something desperate, "You didn't see the large moonstone in there?"

Gary shakes his head slowly, puzzlement marking each syllable of his answer, "I didn't see anything in there, nothing but large rocks and pits," he explains with a small voice, mumbling his reply in brief confusion, "there was supposed to be a moonstone in there?"

"Ofcourse!" his gramps answers more forcefully, "that's what I had thought to show you when you got older!" he responds with light-brown eyes almost swimming in confusion, his wrinkles more pronounced with his stress.

 _That_ iswhat he'd hidden from him all of these years since that horrible night? A moonstone of all things? Gary almost feels rage tug at his features.

"Then what was with your whole talk about me 'knowing strength' when I passed through there?!" he asks in exasperation, overwhelming confusion and hurt coursing through him.

His gramps features seem to take on another layer of grave understanding, pushing up the palm of his hand against his forehead as he slowly shakes his head.

"Gary, I truly did mean what I said," the Oak elder starts, his age starting to shine through his weary voice, "Did you really think I'd send you into your—"

Sudden realization of just what ordeal the young Oak had gone through springs to life inside Samuel Oak's head, "How did you..?"

The rage that had taken hold of the young trainer stills briefly at the harried voice of his gramps. Gary simply offers to tell him the truth, just how he'd survived against impossible odds.

"Squirtle evolved at the end, but," he starts with a weak tone, lips thin as his eyes seem to take him back to situation at hand, gripping the fabric of his jeans roughly with unbridled fear, "I thought this was just what you'd expected me to do, y'know?"

His gramps remains silent at that statement.

"So I decided to go through with it, but the moment I saw all of those burrows," Gary grits his teeth, shaking his head, "the ground started shaking and I heard roar after roar—there was no chance to turn back and—"

"Gary!" his gramps firm voice brings his gaze back up to him, back to reality. It's only when he looks down that he finds his nails threatening to dig through his jeans with how hard he's gripping them.

Looking back up, Gary finds a brief encouraging smile planted upon his elders features despite the weariness he can spot amongst the wrinkles.

"When I told you that it'd show you what it means to be a trainer, I would never have thought it actually would've held that much weight," his grandpa admits, "I believed the significance of the large moonstone and all the surrounding creatures worshipping it would get you to understand the beauty of being a trainer. Itching to explore the world like I had back in my days,"

He pauses for a moment, pondering over his next course of action. As if making up his mind, he offers up a harried sigh along with his continuation;

"It was wrong of me to even dismiss what impact my words might have on you," regret seems to wash over the older mans features, "even as I know how much you've hounded me over the years about just what happened in there." They both feel a tug of their lips briefly at his last words, knowing it to be all too true.

He exhales after. It's weary, heavy and not suitable at all for his old geezer,"I've been careless, and dismissive."

Eyes shining with remorse, filled with the promise of making it up to him, he offers up perhaps the most serious apology the young trainer had ever heard out of his gramps, "And I'm sorry for that, Gary."

Feeling stunned, the younger Oak stares blankly at his gramps for a few moments. Perhaps weighing his options. Ultimately, Gary grumbles something beneath his breath. Feeling almost embarrassed with how honestly his gramps had decided to apologize.

"It's okay. It wasn't all bad," Gary mumbles as he finds his nails digging into his brown locks through sheer discomfort. He had expected an apology but not _that_.

A brief smile tugs at his elders lips, nodding briefly, "You did say that Squirtle evolved, I'm sure you're overjoyed with that."

Snorting, Gary held back a grimace as his thoughts wander off to his hard-shelled partner, how he'd changed despite all. "He's more quiet and paranoid than ever."

His grandpa nods slowly. "As he should be, it's only natural for a newly-evolved Wartortle to be protective," a genuine smile probes at his gramps features, "they tend to mellow out after a few months, give it some time."

Rolling his eyes, Gary finds it hard to feel optimistic about that. "Months, huh? Cheers for the heads up, gramps."

As if detecting his sarcasm had been a born trait, his grandpa smiles wide this time. "Don't give me that," he jests in good spirits, equally as keen to leave the depressing subjects behind, "How's your mankey holding up?"

It's a welcome change.

"He's keeping up atleast, I'm abit worried about just how competitive he'll get now that Squirtle evolved." It's been something he'd picked up during the last few days of spelunking through Mt. Moon, his furry partners curious gaze always seeming to linger a few extra moments upon the reliable shell of Wartortle.

"That's great!" ever the optimist, his gramps seem to have taken a keen liking to the small fighting-type despite never having met him, "Rivalries are the most potent tool in keeping any fighting-type interested and motivated, he'll grow along just fine."

"And going by your own words back in Pewter's pokémon center about him being far too stubborn for his own good, that just means he'll work harder to never get left behind."

His gramps was right on that account. Mankey wouldn't back down from any challenge he'd set in front of him if it meant losing to Wartortle.

As if feeling nostalgic, his old geezers eyes seem to be lost in thought for a few seconds, "Perhaps I should have them both spar the next time you come back, hrm?" he whispers quietly to himself but it's enough to be overheard through the videophone.

"You're really comparing my furball to your machamp?" Gary snorts, finding it hard to believe his gramps is comparing the likes of Wartortle and Mankey to his own Machamp and Arcanine. Their rivalry were known far and wide across the Oak corral. Anytime the two beasts would decide to spar half the pokémon population felt the need to leave and get as far away possible, anything to not become collateral damage in their terrifying skirmishes.

Samuel Oak shrugs his shoulders through the videophone screen, infectious smile ever present. "Now you're getting ahead of yourself, my boy," he chuckles, "you've got a few years left before Champ would ever try anything serious with that little thing."

Now that hurts. "Give me a year, old man."

"You've always been too optimistic, my dear grandson."

 _He's_ too optimistic? "I swear, give me a year and I promise Mankey will atleast get a few good hits in!"

Quirking his brow, his gramps seem to ponder over the challenge with serious intentions. "Fair enough, I'll hold you to it Gary,"

Nodding along, grin wide as he can't help but wonder just how helpful such teachings can be. While it almost hurts him physically to recieve any form of help from his gramps, a mere spar along with helpful tips wouldn't hurt. He knows next to nothing about fighting-types except what his pokédex holds. His gramps has had decades worth of experience accumulated with his own machamp.

Yes, this is great. Maybe he'd even let it slip after training just to see how his furball would react.

"But I wonder, did you decide to capture anything while in Mt. Moon? You did speak of your interests in aquiring a sandshrew," his gramps words rip him straight out of his thoughts and back into his exhausting reality.

He had indeed captured something.

"Eh? Yeah, yeah I did," Gary mumbles, scratching at his brown locks with something akin to discomfort yet again.

A brief smile tugs at his old geezers aged visage, urging him to go on, "Well?"

"I caught an Onix."

His gramps doesn't seem to let his reveal knock away their cheerful mood, "I believe it's safe to say it's one of the Onix that inhabited the colony?" he asks.

"Yup, she's quite small compared to other Onix I've seen but she's young." Gary can only shrug his shoulders, as that's basicly the extent of his knowledge on his third partner.

"It's a she then? That's great to hear!" the young Oak blinks once at his grandpas sudden enthusiasm. "They tend to be far less aggressive than their male counterparts, you'll have no trouble getting her to calm down and get used to the travelling lifestyle I'm sure."

Gary dips his head in acknowledgment of the information he's given, offering up a large grin afterwards, "Thanks, gramps."

Scoffing, waving his hand as if to dismiss his thanks, Samuel Oak seems excited at the prospect of him having an Onix on his team. Enough so that he starts pouring forth with valuable information he's been desperate to aquire ever since his pokédex hadn't given him anything concrete.

"I'll advice you to release her somewhere obscured from sunlight, since I'm assuming she's been in Mt. Moon since hatching, her initial exposure to such unfamiliar territory should be gradual," his gramps starts explaining, eager hand gestures not far behind.

Gary simply blinks in shock at the burst of words pouring out.

"Most Onix tend to grow familiar with sunlight after just a week or two, and if you're ever stuck in a location where you can't seem to find any trees offering you shade, simply advice her to dig her head down into the ground to escape it—"

Gary can only dumbly nod along, confused mind having a hard time processing everything at once so suddenly.

"—as for training, I'm sure you'll figure it out on your own. However, you'll need to be careful from now as not only are you working with a creature that has more bulk, but she'll also need to limit her use of force so long as you have smaller creatures in your team!"

Chuckling briefly, as if remembering something from long ago, his gramps explains further, "I don't think I'll have to tell you that Mankey will need to be careful so long as he remains in his pre-evolved form, once he's evolved I'm sure you'll be able to reliably pit him against the full strength of an Onix."

Gary finds himself bringing up his pokédex as he remembers just how passionate his gramps can be with his studies and information, idly starting to take notes he's sure will come in handy when it comes to both the care and health of his three partners. His gramps is an expert on pokémon and human relations afterall.

Unlike his original plans of rest and sleep, the young trainer finds himself enamoured with the information pouring forth as it looks like there'll be no end in sight.

Spending the better part of his morning with his gramps, as if he'd never left the quiet town of Pallet, evening comes faster than he'd like.

* * *

"Your Onix will have to remain in the emergency care unit for tonight, Mr. Oak."

Gary frowns, unsure if he's heard Nurse Joy correctly. He could actually withdraw Onix tomorrow morning and get on with their inevitable introductions? Does that include training aswell?

"Will she atleast be able to start up some basic training tomorrow?" Maybe he's being too hopeful, but it'd be a blessing to not have to wait any longer with what's needed.

Nurse Joys features sport a sudden frown that rivals his own, shaking her head at his inquiry, "I'm sorry, but she'll need all the rest she can get. I'd advice a few days of calm before trying to start anything strainous."

Firmly nodding his concession, knowing that he should listen to the professional when it comes to matters he has next to no knowledge of, Gary abides to get on with his day. Nothing would come of worrying for his third pokémon.

"I'll keep that in mind, I promise," Gary starts, offering up his goodbyes with a brief grin of his lips, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Nurse Joy simply nods her head, eyes already glued to the computer she's tapping away at, enamoured in whatever duty she has. "Have a nice day, Mr. Oak."

Stiffling an even larger grin, pondering over just how different the nurses can be depending on the scale of the city they're opperating in, Gary resolves to follow her parting words.

While he could wait with addressing his third partner. He has business with his two other ones, specifically, to start up their training regiment again.

Walking past the open entrance of the pokémon center and into the streets of Cerulean, Gary Oak sets his sights on treelines rising up behind the north-east part of the city.

Having spent the better portion of his week spelunking through the numerous floors of Mt. Moon, it'd left their training lacking. Despite their numerous run-ins with the local wildlife to keep their instincts sharp and focused, it'd also been filled with mental exhaustion. To remain alert and on constant vigil for every waking hour of the day isn't all too healthy, and that's exactly why he plans on letting them merely run loose today.

To be free and do as they wish, within his realm of training ofcourse.

Wartortle needed to get familiar with his newfound mobility, his evolution not only granting him astounding increases in both propellant ability and impact force of his numerous future projectile-based attacks, but also the ability to bend his knees properly without the sharp constraints of his shell.

Feeling the achingly familiar feel of grass hitting his strides, Gary grins wildly. His mind rapidly trying to get up to speed with what he'd have had time to research during this brief day they've been in Cerulean. Brown gaze following the beautiful scenery of the citys riverbanks as he travels along them, he idly taps the tips of his fingers against the cool quality of his two partners containers in thought.

The stance they had previously employed to keep Squirtle in a comfortable position to fire had been the base foundation of his more long-term ideas. To think more clearly, it'd been a lesson in mobility, to give his turtle a basic stance for _running_. It's why he'd forced his formerly bumbling little friend to join in on his more strainous stamina training for Mankey when it comes to agility and manouverability

With Wartortle having greater use of his limbs, no longer so strained within their confines of the large shell of a squirtle, it's the start of having the ability of granting his hard-shelled partner a tool he'll keep with him even as he grows and evolves to the force of nature known as a blastoise;

Running on four limbs.

And while Gary concedes that sure, blastoise all over the world use this trait to traverse long distances on land. But it's also never quite enough so that it'd learn to sprint with the heavy weight on its back. It may not prove fruitful in the long run, the young trainer knows that. His ideas perhaps abit too crazy to center in reality.

But what could you do if a blastoise, a creature considered to be an immobile titan without the use of different types of moves, would _charge_ you?

Skull Bash, Rapid Spin and even Aqua Jet, they're all tools to be utilized in the most efficient ways possible. Why restrict it to those already known? Why not work hard and perfect their own weapons?

And speaking of those moves, it's just those three that Gary feels are their priority as of now, along with the one he'd wished to start on since before Mt. Moon; Bubblebeam.

With Wartortles current moveset they're lacking diversity, their only tools for close-range being either Tail Whip or Headbutt. As for long-range, it's mostly only Watergun along with his seldom employed Bubble.

Nodding his head as he finds his sneakers connect with the solid wood of a bridge, Gary concedes that it's probably for the better to perfect both Skull Bash and Rapid Spin for now.

Onto his furball, then.

Brick Break, Cross Chop and Pursuit.

Those are the three moves his old geezer had recommended him to start training towards. Brick Break for its effectiveness in neutralizing just about any potential psychic or electric blockades they're bound to encounter in the future, looking ahead towards their visit to Vermillion and Saffron. However, there's also Cross Chop simply for the power spike it'll give his Mankey, the lethal technique of channeling energy into both knuckles for a dual-strike Karate Chop.

It would give them some real choices with both stamina conservation and striking power. Right now his furballs technique was lacking in many ways, simply powering onwards due to sheer agility and super-effective moves towards most of the population around these parts of Kanto.

That's where Pursuit comes to mind.

His grandpa had suggested to not only start training it now, but to push his second partner to finish up a rough recreation of the move in a few weeks. The reason being mostly that while the Mankey evolutionary line comes second to the Machop line in terms of physical prowess here in Kanto. They make up for it in their agility, flexibility and unpredictability.

The relentless nature of Pursuit would enable them to have a solid defense against Psychic types, their main weakness. Something a Machop couldn't hope to match at this stage of their evolution.

While it could be argued that flying types held the real advantage if they use moves such as Air Slash or anything long-range, his earlier encounter with a particular Machoke and Pidgeot has taught him otherwise. The effective way the muscular fighting-type had neutralized the oncoming Steel Wing had given him ideas. Some sane, some not— it's still ideas he's desperate to try out.

But, Pursuit and Cross Chop would be their focus today. Both easy enough to build foundations for.

As for Onix, he'll figured it out tomorrow. He's got plenty of time to figure out a training regiment for the large rock-type during its resting days.

Scouting ahead, spotting a clear grass-filled area next to the numerous riverbanks present everywhere surrounding Cerulean, Gary finds himself positive for the oncoming day.

Striding over with purpose, digging with both hands towards his trainer belt he grips both of his partners containers, tossing them up in the air.

Finding his world turn a blinding white, Gary meets it unflinchingly. His two partners making their appearance known with their respective roars.

Offering up a large grin, he greets them with a two-fingered salute;

"Let's get to work, you slackers!"

* * *

"No, no—no!" Gary yells, jogging forward across the grassy clearing with his arms waved overhead, shirt drenched with water from his previous attentions towards his hard-shelled partner.

Mankey's ears twitch at the interruption, snorting as he turns to face his trainer mid-training with a sour look. "You're doing it all wrong, look—"

Gary brings up his pokédex, flipping through the numerous articles on moves he's been researching. Bringing up the index for _Pursuit_ , the young trainer immediately points towards the video showcasing another Mankey performing said move.

"See this here? The stance? That's what I want you to work on." His furball nods shortly, showing just how much attention he's putting towards their efforts of becoming stronger despite his fiery attitude. "You're on the right track, alright? But you're too lazy in your movements, this Mankey got its back straight and tail tucked flat."

His own furball seems to cock his head in brief puzzlement. Gary can only roll his eyes in response, "What I'm saying is, copy it and _then_ you can start changing it to suit your own needs. But we need to actually get it working first and that's how it's just gonna give results the fastest."

"Sound good?"

He recieves a mere stare of scarlet in return.

With his Wartortle making a ruckus in and amongst the riverbank behind him, Gary adopts a firm expression, brokering no whining or slacking; "Great, now show me. I'd like to see if it compares. You need to get familiar with it if we're ever gonna use it in a battle."

Actually recieving a response this time, Mankey offers a miniscule nod before dragging his knuckles behind him as he walks a few paces away from his trainer.

"Mankey, show me Pursuit!" he bellows, pointing towards the girthy tree they'd employed as a temporary target for just this kind of practice.

His furball begins at the command, agile form slipping down on all four as his tail straightens behind him. Dashing forward, speeding across the grass with his manic sight set upon the tree, Gary's keen gaze can finally see some change surrounding the move.

It's there, a brief flicker, a mere speck of the power he'd need to conjure for a real pursuit — but it's visible. A dark coat, purple at its edges seem to trail behind his furry partner yet it flimmers with each step towards their target.

Unfocused or simply not enough will-power to maintain it, it's still something to show off after a few hours of work. They're not even close, far from it. But there's proof that atleast they're able to harness the dark energies needed for the dark-type move.

Pursuit in and of itself is a powerful move, effective and downright terrifying should you be targeted by it. The ability to relentlessly chase after a target with overwhelming speed and unending narrow-minded focus is what's catering to his reasoning behind pushing his furball to practice using the move.

It fits in with not only his Mankeys fighting-style, but also as a necessary last-ditch effort. Pursuit will keep going until it hits its target, it's a dance with the dark energies urging the creature onwards, promises of survival and victory should you heed its call.

Mankey comes to a grinding halt, soil kicked up as he stops himself short of colliding with the tree he'd practiced the dark-type move on.

Gary feels a brief grin of success tug at his lips. "Did you feel any difference with copying the Mankey I showed you?" he hollers over to his fighting-type.

Mankey whirrs around, fur standing up on all ends as he nods his furry frame numerous times in excitement.

Smiling, Gary offers up a brief wave towards the open field before them. "Keep practicing and don't stop! I'd like to see some results by the end of the day, you hear me?"

As if his trainers words had been the signal to allow the fighting-type to keep trying the move towards any target he could find, Mankey kicks off yet again towards another target with a determined shriek. Manic snorts filling the air surrounding them as the furry creature starts charging all sorts of things.

Shaking his head, Gary simply wanders over to what he'd been doing before all of this.

Teaching Wartortle.

Having rolled up his jeans, the boy simply moves over to the river his hard-shelled friend had been enjoying before Mankey had stolen his attention. Taking a seat down upon the rocky bank, dipping his legs into the water yet again, Gary finds his brown gaze staring out the river in search for his partner.

Magikarp, Horsea and Goldeen are all swimming around these parts of Cerulean. Thriving amongst its plentiful enviroments yet they're all fleeing at the sight of the bulky turtle that's chasing them down with vigor and ferociousness underwater.

Snorting in laughter as he spots Wartortle connect his forehead with the side of an aged Goldeen, Gary marvels at his stupid idea of testing out an over-powered Headbutt against the water-type population of the area. It simply swims away, looking more irritated than hurt by their attempt.

While it'd give his turtle some much needed relief to be in his natural habitat, it's also targets that aren't his furball. As much as he'd like for Wartortle to spar up against Mankey and test out Skull Bash and Pursuit versus real opponents, it would probably end with his poor fighting-type finding himself at the pokémon center before long.

As it were, his Wartortle was the literal and figurative definition of the word hard-headed. And evolution had only brought that word to new heights.

Seeing his friend attempting to take pursuit of the Goldeen in question, perhaps attempting to try it out yet again and actually injuring it, Gary takes matters into his own hand as he brings his fingers up into a whistle.

"Wartortle, get back up here!"

As if his commands were law, Wartortle kicks away from his underwater chase immediately. Swimming deftly and expertly up towards the surface, coming to a stop as he floats up to his trainer, Gary greets him yet again.

"Having fun bud?"

His partner cries out his affirmative, overjoyed by the simple fact that he gets to swim around freely.

"Glad to know," Gary grins faintly, "but since you're all warmed up now, how about we get started on Aqua Jet again?"

The sour look crossing the turtles features almost makes him wish to add Skull Bash to that mix just to rub it in that today is still training day, but he reigns himself in. Rolling his eyes, Gary won't have it either way. "Don't give me that look, you know well enough that you've got to be in top form for the gym."

"Besides, it's not like you'd want to lose," If it were possible, his turtles look sours even further at his trainer even entertaining the thought.

"Right, bud?"

Grumbling his agreement, Wartortle drags himself up on the riverbank and onto dry land again. Shaking off any excess water to simply annoy said trainer, the turtle lumbers over to the area they'd been practicing Skull Bash on earlier. The trees surrounding them having almost been bent in their efforts to perfect it.

"Hey, look on the bright side alright?" Gary offers, gesturing behind him with a silly grin, "You'll just annoy Mankey even more if you pick up his slack at the gym."

At that, his Wartortles previously cheerful mood seem to return just a small fraction. Lips turned upwards as his tusks almost seem to gleam in humour at the thought. Maybe his gramps had been right afterall, huh?

"Anyways, lets get started shall we?"

At his rhetorical question Wartortle simply nods, lumbering further up land to await whatever instructions his trainer would have in mind.

"First of all, we're going to do this both on land and in water." Gary has had a few hours to theorycraft on his own. And while it'd been his intentions to have Wartortle get some relief by swimming around, it's also his way to get a few answers he didn't feel necessary to ask the turtle. Such as his speed of acceleration, seeing as it was key in starting to aquire Aqua Jet. He hasn't been disappointed judging from what he's seen.

"On land we're going to start with getting you used to the starting motion. And seeing as it's going to require some finessé on your part, we'll probably be stuck up here on land for awhile."

Wartortle barely flinches at his remark, grumbling something beneath his breath that Gary won't bother trying to decipher. It's true what he's saying though. Wartortle, while a beast in his own right when it comes to power now that he's evolved, simply lacks the technique you'd see in more mature wartortles and blastoise. It's a hurdle they'll have to get over eventually, but everything takes its time when it comes to training.

"So, if you'd like to get back into the water in a week or so you better be ready to put some work in."

A mere few days is not enough to learn a move. While it could be argued that TMs could be bought and used to teach several different moves faster, they don't necessarily give you the knowledge on how to harness anything. It simply just allows the pokémon in question to perform the move adequetely without thought.

That's not really what he's looking for right now, seeing as blasting his pokémon full of TMs won't solve any problems that's bound to appear in the future. TM's are useful for experienced fighters who know their strengths, not beginners like them.

Wartortle almost looks like he'd like to whine at his words, but ultimately he resigns to his fate. Replacing his quick peek out towards the beautiful river with hardened resolve to work towards whatever goal Gary had in mind.

Noticing the change, the young trainer grins as he digs down for his pokédex for the hundreth time today. "Glad to know you're onboard, bud!" He really does mean it despite all.

"Come on over here. We've got to watch this together then, alright? I got a few ideas but it's for the best if you'd see it for yourself."

Seating himself back down on the grass, Gary pats the spot next to him. Flipping his pokédex up, he scrolls through the dozen articles he'd read through already back towards _Aqua Jet_.

Ears twitching, Wartortle lazily allows himself to walk over on all four. Coming to a tired stop next to his trainer as he drops his indigo-blue head to rest atop the knee of Gary.

Hitting the play button, the electronic voice of the pokédex starts droning on as the video springs to life.

 _Aqua Jet,_

 _A water-type move. Frequently used as an alternative means of transportation both above ground aswell as underwater, it has become a core ability for most water pokémon. This is an introductory video along with training exercises that will show you how to completely master..._

* * *

A few hours has gone by.

The once clear-blue sky starting turn into a beautiful orange glow that is only amplified by its mirror in the rivers of Cerulean. Chattering of butterfrees, beedrills and any other bug-type native to Kanto starting to buzz alive with the oncoming moon. The tranquil scenery only broken by the commands yelled rapid-fire to an exhausted turtle.

"Wartortle use Aqua Jet!"

Wartortle springs to life, starting to pick up speed as he's attempting to run forward on four legs. Inhaling, preparing himself for the torrent of water he's about to release, he jumps up and lets the torrent loose. It's not too fast and not too slow, enough so that Wartortles speed easily matches it in mid-air. Expertly starting to manipulate the water surrounding him as he's jumped straight into the torrent he's unleashed, Wartortle starts to gain momentum; looking to finally having gotten the hang of it after all these hours—

A confused, frustrated roar comes forth as the torrent seemingly evaporates and comes cascading down onto the ground below. Along with a heavy, exhausted turtle.

Gary looks on with a ponderous expression, resigning with a sigh that perhaps complete mastery of the starting motion would be miraculous within just a few hours.

"Close!" Gary hollers over to his companion. "Give me another, okay? We've got a few more hours until it's completely dark outside!"

They've gotten far though, much further than he'd originally anticipated.

To be honest, if they keep this pace up for a couple more days maybe he'd just need a few days to completely master the move. Evolution had only sped up the process, and he's saying that only because his Mankey looks to be on the verge of attempting to level this whole section of trees nearby just because Pursuit won't work successfully after a couple of hours.

Closing his eyes, already used to tuning out shrieks that grates on his ears Gary refocuses on the task at hand.

"Show me Aqua Jet, Wartortle!"

Wartortle looks to be tired, maybe he'd been too harsh on him but he hasn't really dialed down their training regiments since before Mt. Moon. It's just them having been inside that horrible cave for a week with not many options of keeping themselves consistent with training.

It wouldn't matter though, it's not like pokémon would lose their stamina over a week. But Gary suspects its due to his recent evolution and his own insistent nagging that he should practice running on four legs.

Wartortle gears up, slowly making his way backwards to the same spot he'd started before turning around again.

Starting with a sprint upon four legs, Wartortle inhaling as he's readying himself for another torrent that he's supposed to dive into. Noticing how his turtle jumps upwards, Gary finds a frown involuntarily make its way to his features. Instead of the steady torrent they've employed all day, it almost looks like Wartortle is trying to..

Gary's eyes barely have time to widen in shock before it happens.

Covering himself with the water as if it were a blanket, Wartortle starts accelerating _fast_. Spinning, accelerating with the water surrounding him as if he were a watergun himself— Wartortles dome start to take on a heavy light-blue sheen as he speeds towards his imaginary target. Heavy-shelled frame spinning along with the water that's starting to take on an ethereal glow of power.

 _Aqua Jet._

It's fast, and over before he's even had a chance to react. But when he finally finds his lungs cooperating with his head again, Gary just laughs.

"That's amazing!" His turtle whirls around towards his voice, looking more confused than anything.

"Bud, that was a full Aqua Jet!" Dark-purple widens as he seems to realize just what he'd done aswell. A large, tusk-filled grin seem to dominate this whole area as his Wartortle lights up just as he'd done as a Squirtle. Bumbling, filled with happiness.

Gary grins wildly, not willing to let this chance go to waste now. "Okay, okay— lets do that again, alright? Keep what you just did in mind and try to do it—!"

" **You!** "

Gary flinches mid-sentence. What's with people trying to make him go deaf? First that Jigglypuff trainer and now this..

Both trainer and pokémon whirls around to face their would-be intruder, and it's with a dash and screech that Mankey joins them at a moments notice. It's not a pretty sight. Maybe that's unfair considering how it's a girl, but Gary wouldn't dare crossing that scowl on her face.

"Uh..? Me?" He's completely taken back by whoever this could be. Just what had he done now?

"Yes, you!" Orange hair seems to almost wish to escape the pony-tail she's sporting with how viciously she's pointing at him, and that's not counting the red ruby of the Starmie almost shining threateningly down where the riverbank is. She's apparently brought back-up.

Gary finds himself almost sweating, his two partners taking on a more serious look now that another pokémon has been spotted.

"That's your Wartortle, right?"

He nods dumbly, having no clue what this is about. Wartortle seem to stare up at him in puzzlement aswell.

"Do you know how many times I have to go around Cerulean each month to tell some idiot trainer not to start battles with the local water pokémon here if it's not for catching?"

"Uh, I wouldn't kn—"

" **Way** too many times!" Huffing, the girl rages on, "Didn't you read the signs like everybody else when you decided to come here!"

Gary raises a finger to object, having been wishing to defend himself but lets it drop at the mention of a sign. There'd been signs around here?

Idly staring up at the dusk covering the sky, Gary attempts to recollect whatever signs he'd seen around here. Shrugging his shoulders, finding his thoughts empty of any such warnings, he focuses on the girl again. "I didn't see any signs, no."

Rolling her eyes, as if having overheard this a thousand times, the orange-head looks to be impatiently tapping her fingers against her forearm.

"I'm guessing my Wartortle did something bad?" Said turtle looks on in horror that his trainer would try to sell him out to this fiend as Mankey looks on with glee. Gary almost finds his serious demeanour crumbling, a smile quivering to transform into a full blown laugh. He's finally realized just what they've done.

"Yes, it did! And why are you laughing?"

"Becaaause," Gary drags out with a snort of laughter, a smug sound that makes their intruder frown, "we didn't actually hurt anything around here."

"But Starmie said—!"

"Everything kept running from Wartortle as soon as he jumped into the river, the only thing that really stayed around was an old Goldeen that got struck by a headbutt that didn't look to do much of anything against it." Gary finishes up, quirking his brow at the girl that looks to be just a few years older than him. "Besides, I don't think a water-type pokémon enjoying his freetime should be considered a crime, right?"

Green eyes widen comically as the girl whirls around towards the riverbanks where the Starmie is located.

It's quiet for a few moments, and it's only when Gary decides to speak up that he remembers that Starmie are in-fact psychic pokémon. Grumbling, deciding to give them the time they need he looks down towards his own turtle and furry menace instead.

Wartortle seems to be focused on the Starmie in particular, dark-purple having taken on a more determined look. Gary snorts, shaking his head as realizes that he's got two battle-hungry creatures on his side.

A minute passes before the girl nods slowly to herself, turning around to face them with her mouth forming a thin line.

"Starmie says that the local schools of Goldeen and Horsea were chased away by your Wartortle, or atleast that's what the horsea she'd spoke with had said."

Gary frowns, nodding along. "We didn't really force them to flee, they swam away as soon as he jumped in."

"What about the Goldeen?" Green eyes seem to search his for an answer, a steel quality to them.

Shrugging his shoulders, the young trainer sees no reason to lie if she's part of some official defence force here in Cerulean. "I looked through my pokédex before we got here, it said that Goldeen with large horns are just about ready to evolve into Seakings."

As if such a phenomenon was precious to the trainer, a small smile makes its way to her features. It's like night and day. "That's correct."

"Part of me wanted to see if it'd need an extra push to evolve or if it'd be resilient enough to handle our current version of Headbutt."

Gary laughs as the Wartortle seems to busy himself with staring at anything but the Starmie and girl in front. "It barely budged and just swam away, there was no real harm done."

Turning to look over her shoulder, she simply nods at the Starmie before looking back towards the trio. "She says that what you're describing matches up with the pokémons story, I guess I was in the wrong here."

Swiftly looking back yet again she rolls her eyes, "Yes I know, I'll apologise."

Huffing, looking straight back at him she allows a small smile to grace her features yet again. "I'm sorry for barging in on your training."

Once again, it's like night and day. And Gary finds himself barely keeping his words from stuttering. "Uh— yeah, no real harm done. We were just about to wrap up."

"A-huh," she nods, perhaps not entirely buying it. She drops it however, walking forward toward his Wartortle with eager eyes.

"How old is he?" She kneels down, carefully reaching out towards the turtle before scratching him behind his right ear. Wartortle rumbles lightly at the affectionate touch.

"Three months, maybe more." Gary doesn't know the full details, but judging by his evolution timing it's pretty accurate. "I got him from Professor Oak and you know how everyone is around there, right? Secretive and all."

"I do know, actually. I've been trying to get a Squirtle from them ever since I started, it's just about impossible except for all the trainers that start there." She frowns lightly, finishing up her scratching with a pat of the Wartortles dome before she rises.

Gary shrugs. "He's like that, I don't think you'll get a chance for a few more years actually."

"A few more years?" She echoes, "I think I'd have a better chance trying to catch a wild one during all that time than sending messages asking about the next Squirtle eggs."

Gary can only laugh in response, knowing just how slim of a chance either of those options have of ever coming true. "My grandpa says they're just slow breeders and given how few of them there are? Well I don't think you'll find one in the wild either."

"I've read as muc— wait, your grandpa?" She eyes him almost in shock.

Rolling his eyes, Gary can't help but forget just how popular his gramps really is amongst the Kanto population. "The name's Gary Oak, I'm his grandson."

She stares at him for a few more moments, before offering up a handshake.

"Misty, I'm the Cerulean City gym-leader."

Oh. "Oh." He hadn't expected that at all.

"Guess I'll be battling you in a few weeks then, huh?" Gary can just feel himself dragging his lips into a forced smile at the thought of battling that Starmie. It looks like a beast in its own right and if it's capable of telepathy its most-likely also got a pretty strong psychic arsenal they'll have to contend with. Wartortle and Mankey on the other hand looks to be positively delighted at this turn of events.

"Oh? You're looking to take on the gym-leader challenge like everybody else, huh?" Gary can't help but feel just a tiny bit threatened when said gym-leader of Cerulean looks a tad bit too excited at the prospects of battling him.

He can only pray to whatever legends that are listening that she's not holding him to the same standard as his old geezer. Not only would he disappoint her in his current state, but also monumentally fail to live up to even a fraction of his gramps skill.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" It's a no-brainer to someone like him.

Misty shrugs her shoulders, peering down at the Wartortle as if absorbed within her own thoughts. "Not looking to take after your grandpa then? With the whole research facility and everything?

It's an honest question, and it hits Gary like a hydro-pump that he hadn't even given that line of thought any more consideration than he probably should. As it is, he's got no idea about his future other than trailing after his old gramps when it comes to his career as a trainer. Maybe the option of studying is there when he returns, whenever he's done. He couldn't really picture himself wearing those lab coats and spending unhealthy amounts of hours just studying how a pokémon behav—

A sudden, very different thought sprouts up however. And it's with a lazy grin that he knows his answer.

"What?" He feigns, mock hurt making him clasp at his t-shirt as if his heart had been broken in two. "You're already trying to get a head-start on getting a Squirtle from me?"

"What? No- no!" She looks startled at his accusation, wildly making a stop motion with her arms crossed as if to indicate just how wrong he is.

Gary sighs airily. "No, I get it. I guess I'll have to endure those letters when I grow older."

"What—" Misty starts, wide-eyed before they narrow dangerously as she connects the dots, "Hey!"

Gary shrugs innocently, eyes searching for anything that isn't bright-green threatening to beat him to a pulp. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Damn right you did!" She huffs, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "I'll have been sending letters for like twenty years before you do anything like that!"

"Twenty years? Man, do I need to ask about those letters when I get back to Pallet some day." He grins, enjoying spending some time with anything that isn't a wall filled with either fur or shell. Even if said enjoyment seems to be wishing to end him right then and there.

Now that he's got a better look at her, she can't be that much older than him. A few years maybe. But he's probably imagining it considering the scowl on her features right now.

Seeing as the orange-headed gym-leader looks to be on the verge of actually smacking him, and seething enough that he can just about picture steam starting to form; he takes some pity on her. If only for his own well-being.

"Y'know what? I'll ask my gramps about that Squirtle next time I talk to him, does that make up for it?" It wouldn't hurt, and the answer would most-likely be a negative. But it's the least he can do, he's got manners despite all. His old geezer has made sure of that.

Misty's green eyes turn from viciously lethal to pleasantly surprised, eyes wide at his simple offering. "You'd really do that for me? Just like that?"

Gary just nods, not really getting the big deal all of a sudden. "Can't promise my word will do any good though, so don't get your hopes up alright?"

There's no chance in any shape or form that his gramps would give up one of the next batch of Squirtle eggs, of any starter pokémon for that matter. But he could probably bump her up on the priority list with a few well-meant words to his gramps.

It's not like the Oak Corral is the only place where you can find the creatures, it's only that Blastoise tend to breed far out on remote islands that's way too inaccessable even with a flying-type. Not to mention incredibly difficult to find.

A bright smile lights up, Misty looking at him as if he'd just given her one of the best gifts she ever could've hoped for. "I won't, I promise!"

That's all he needs to hear. "Great, actually—since you're here.." Gary trails off, motioning his Wartortle forward as it's with his second hand that he dexteriously grabs his second partners container, returning him promptly with a cut-off screech of surprise as he'd been trying to sneak off down to the riverbank. A scuffle between a stubborn fighting-type and battle-hardened psychic-type wouldn't end well for the bundle of fur.

"You know how Aqua Jet works, right?"

Misty turns her gaze upwards from where Mankey had just been to him, cocking her head slightly as if momentarily confused by his question. "Of course I do, why?"

Gary grins, finally having found what he'd been looking for. An expert opinion that wasn't his old geezer. "Did you see the Aqua Jet Wartortle pulled off right before you called out?"

Misty looks down at the turtle in question yet again before giving the trainer himself a brief nod. "I did, it looked like a standard Aqua Jet from just about any water-type."

"Well, uh— that was the first time Wartortle had really done it."

The orange-headed girl just a few years older than him frowns as she digests his words. It's only after a few extra seconds that she does a double-take. Heaving a weary sigh even his old geezer would commend her for, Misty pushes up a hand to cover her forehead in shame.

"I totally just barged in and destroyed your first successful training of it, huh?"

"Sure did." Gary nods along with Wartortle, the turtle looking up at the gym-leader with something akin to frustration.

It was their first shot of the water-type move that had actually, quite surprisingly, been performed to completion. It's frustrating to not know if they'll ever get that type of breakthrough again for atleast another week. Training is hard enough as it is. To get that close to achieving any semblance of control of Aqua Jet would've given them a few days headstart to actually being able to use it in combat. It's time he could've spent productively trying to teach Wartortle something else; like Bubblebeam.

"Care enough to give us any tips? I mean, it's only fair."

She rolls her eyes at his smug tone. "Fine, fine— I get it."

"Show me what you've got so far, try to remember what you did last time and go for it." Misty gestures for Wartortle to take the field again, the ever-faithful turtle looks up at his trainer for confirmation. Gary only shrugs, offering up a nod afterwards.

It wasn't everyday you get tutored by an expert, and they won't waste the opportunity.

Misty walks back towards the riverbank nearby, deciding to take a seat next to where her Starmie can be seen keeping itself afloat. Knowing it's his cue to continue, Gary walks up next to Wartortle.

"Alright bud, just try to get ahold of what you did last time," the young trainer starts, gesturing with his hands out towards the grassy field before them to go along with his continuation, "You wrapped the water around you instead of shooting it forward, try for that instead."

Wartortle gives him a stalwart nod, confident in his abilities to get this right. Gary offers up a smirk as confirmation before pointing with a swing of his arm at the tree ahead of them. "Wartortle use Aqua J—!"

That is, before his world comes to a grinding halt at the familiar voice he can't help but despise.

" _Misty!_ " Gary looks over his shoulder, staring out towards the bridge where he can see a black shadow running across it.

There's no way that frustrating guy has found him all the way out here..

" _Where are you?_ "

 _Right?_

He should really look to go for that whole crazed trainer living out in the wild with no contact or knowledge of civilization idea he thought of back in Viridian if this is about to become a common occurance. Arceus help him if it does..

Whirling around, the command filled with the promise of expert teachings dying upon his tongue, he introduces their unwelcome intruder the only way he knows how.

"Well, well— if it isn't Ashy-boy himself!"

* * *

Ash looks back at him with clear shock in his eyes, only for it to give away to scowls at his greetings as per usual. "My name's not Ashy-boy, Gary!"

Rolling his eyes, he gives his best shot of conveying his 'whatever' with a lazy shrug. "Yeah, yeah— I got you the first one-hundred times growing up. Nice to meet you too, by the way."

Misty looks back at Gary after having had her focus thrown off by entrance of a second trainer with a curious orange brow quirked. "You two know eachother?"

"No." "Yes!"

Ash shoots an irritated look at him as he denies it. Gary swiftly ignores it before deciding to ask just what in the world this guy is doing out there. "Why are you even here?"

His own rival starts at his question, his features suddenly sporting a frown. "I was looking for Misty, she ran away without warning after our gym-battle."

"What are _you_ doing out here?" Ash swiftly shoots back at him.

Gary quirks his brow at his former friend, not really knowing if he should call him out for being an idiot or have Wartortle give him a scare with a watergun. The turtle would probably have done it without asking given how tense he looks. "What does it look like? I'm training."

As if just noticing the Wartortle that's staring him down, Ash's large eyes seem to go even wider. "Squirtle evolved!" he exclaims suddenly, pointing down at the turtle in question that would probably lash out and bite if he'd been any closer at the gesture.

Gary rolls his eyes at the idiot. "Well yeah, that usually happens when you actually train your pokémon." There's no need to go into detail as to just how it occured however. They're saving that for another day when there's not an eight meter long savage awaiting him tomorrow.

"Hey, I train mine aswell!" The young Oak simply stares at his fellow trainer at those words, torn between wishing to push his palm into his face or perhaps for once trying to get him to understand just how stupid he sounds with his genius revelations.

Misty seems to cut in at the perfect time, as Gary is just about to open his mouth with the words 'everyone trains their pokémon you idiot' on the tip of his tongue. "Are you two related or something? You argue just like my sisters."

Both trainers whirl around to stare at her, both taking on a look of disgust at being suggested to be brothers. Gary wrinkling his nose and Ash taking on a sour, uncomfortable look.

She catches on rather quickly and it's with rushed words that she attempts to cover up whatever damage those words had done. "I don't mean brothers, just uhh.. I don't know." It's clear she's somewhat puzzled with how easily they seem to clash.

As if deigning her words as a reason to clarify it, Ash starts opening his mouth spew whatever story they've got. "We grew up together in Pallet, started on our journeys the same day aswell. It didn't go so well after that."

Gary feels the itch to tear out his hair at the irritatingly happy tone Ash seems to have as he speaks. "Glad we got that cleared up, can't you just go back to Pallet already?"

"What? No!" Ash yells back at him, frown covering his features. "Why don't you go back to Professor Oak's lab!"

Misty actually laughs at their feud for some reason, patting the top of her Starmie that had suddenly moved up land absentmindedly as she speaks. "Oh, this explains the whole 'rivals to the death' vibe you two already give off," she finishes up with a snicker.

"We're not rivals," they both echo at the same time as they turn to her, only to turn back at eachother with a glare. Why does he always have to mimic him with everything? Gary can't for the love of Arceus ever figure that out.

"Really now?"

"Yeah," Ash starts, "besides I already beat him, how can he be my rival?" If Ash could ever manage to sound smug this is probably the closest Gary had ever heard him come to it. It makes his fingertips itch for releasing Mankey again.

At that, Misty turns her curious gaze up at him now. Gary feels his nerves start to work at having the gym-leaders attention, yet it's only rage that pulses through his veins as he releases she's pitying him for having lost.

"Oh, give me a break!" the young Oak bites out, "that was the first battle any of us ever had, it was right infront of the laboratory!"

"Doesn't change the fact that I won, Gary!"

"You had the type advantage!"

"I did not! It was normal-type moves!"

Misty looks up at Gary with a large grin upon her soft features before they could bicker any further. "You lost to him?"

Gary snorts without any of the smug satisfaction he'd had previously, waving it off. "It was the first battle we both had, noone knew what they were doing." It's easy to give excuses, yet none feel like they really matter here. That battle had stung, and it still does. It's his first time losing to anything or anyone, and it had to be Ash of all people.

"Well, if you've lost to Ash here," the Cerulean City gym-leader begins with a shrug of her shoulders, "I don't think you'll manage to beat me so easily." It only grows into a proud smirk as she leans back onto her Starmie's bulk. The red of its center shining with an ethereal glow amongst the dusk covering Cerulean. It's really no wonder that Ash had managed to lose if that pokémon is one of her battlers, even he himself feels wary at just being in its presence.

Gary doesn't bother turning to Ash to confirm her words, attention torn away from the water and psychic-type that fascinates him as he looks down at the gym-leader that's lounging next to said pokémon.

Missing completely just how his old friend seems to take on a pale skin-tone at this change of topics, Gary goes in for attempting to clarify just what she means. "Really? How come?"

"He lost his second gym-battle against me just a few hours ago actually." It's spoken with such a careless, oblivious tone that she might aswell have been telling him that the weather is sunny and humid.

The young trainer blinks once, trying to grasp just what he'd been told.

And when he does, howling laughter bubbles up without warning. And as he turns towards Ash only to see a blushing face burning red with clear shame at having the fact brought up so non-chalantly, Gary feels like his lungs are about to bust.

"Y—You actually lost twi— Pfahahah!" He doesn't even know why it's so funny, but it's just..

It's just soo... _Ash!_

"Misty, why did you have to tell him!" Ash whines at the older girl, trying to look anywhere but them at having his crushing defeats brought to light. It's clear with his cheeks red that he feels embarrassed.

Misty shrugs her shoulders at that, trying to ignore the subsiding laughter of Gary Oak as he attempts to collect himself after having that sprung on him. "You could've just you know, won."

"But I tried! You said we were close!"

"And I didn't lie, but you barely waited more than a few days before you tried to challenge me again." It's almost eerie with how calm she is in just explaining what his faults are.

Ash looks back at her now, lips thin as he ponders over her words. "You're saying I should just train more and then try again?"

Misty actually nods at his words this time. "I'm saying you should go get some much needed battle experience, you're hesitating alot."

"Oh.." Ash mumbles, scratching at his black hair peaking up underneath his red cap. "Wait, battle experience?"

"Yup," the older girl responds with a bright smile rivaling the blazing Kanto summer during dawn.

As if an idea had just been brought to life, Ash twists and turns to look at the only other trainer his age that has just about recovered from his laughter.

"Gary!" he yells despite their close proximity.

Jumping at the raised voice, Gary feels his skin crawl at the horrible sound as he whirls around to face the two of them yet again. "What the—what do you want now?" It's hard not to sound exasperated and he doesn't know why.

Pointing straight at him, pushing his cap backwards and around with his other hand — Ash calls out to him with renewed determination. "I challenge you to a battle!"

Gary simply stares at him, as does Wartortle for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Had the idiot really done just what it looks like? He doesn't know weither to be angry or relieved that he'd look towards him as a battling partner. Angry that he's forced to spend more time with this nuisance, and relieved that he finally has a chance to pay him back for that first day back in Pallet.

It's with a lazy hand gesture out into the oncoming night sky that he finds himself answering with no small dose of apprehension, "Fine, we'll do a two on two. But if what Misty just said is true you've got no pokémon on you right now."

At that Ash seems to backtrack for just a moment, his confident pose crumbling as his pointing finger drops down. It wouldn't surprise him if he hadn't really thought this through.

"Uh, yeah you're right," Ash mumbles, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. However, he recovers swiftly as it's with a happy grin that only serves to irritate Gary further that he comes up with his newest brightest idea.

Ash nods confidently. "Tomorrow! We'll meet out here after dinner and battle, okay?"

It's reasonable, and it gives him plenty of time to plan ahead. He's not about to lose now that he's got a chance for revenge.

Shooting a quick glance down at Misty that looks to just be barely listening in, he speaks up knowing they'll need a referee. "Do you have any duties tomorrow, miss gym-leader?"

"Huh?" Her bright-green gaze snaps up to his brown, frowning before realizing perhaps just what he's asking. "No, not really. My pokémon need to rest tomorrow, so I've got the day off."

"Mind acting as a referee? I mean, you kinda started this."

She rolls her eyes at his accusatory tone hidden by smug expressions. "I've got nothing better to do so why not?"

"Alright, well—" Gary starts, digging into his trainer belt with deft fingers to procure his hard-shelled partners container. Promptly returning said turtle to rest after the exhausting training day they've had, he starts his trek back towards civilization.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ashy-boy! Oh, and also—" he peers over his shoulder back at the orange-head that's eyeing him, "you owe me a training session!"

He doesn't pay attention to notice how both of them roll their eyes, thoughts filled with determination and ideas of victory. He's got someone to pay back, both for his Wartortle and him.

Ash will never know what hit him.

* * *

"Here's your three pokémon, Mr. Oak."

Nurse Joy slides the tray containing three pokéballs on it over the counter and back towards him. He'd left his two partners in their care for the night to allow them to get back into top form for their battle. Three labels under each ball to verify just what's inside each of them.

Wartortle, Mankey and last but not least, Onix.

The last label stares up at him as if mocking. Taunting his fears he'll have to face later today or possibly even tomorrow depending on how this battle goes. One of his partners could potentially handle the large rock-type efficiently, he knows that well enough.

Yet the still fresh memories of a small turtle side-stepping a large beast, of a furry menance riding one with vicious strikes blinding him does not alleviate any of his hesitation.

"Thanks!" Gary accepts the three containers with a large, confident grin. His internal conflict not even visible even as he frowns just barely as he clips on the unfamiliar third pokéball on his trainer belt.

"You're welcome, have a nice day!" the nurse on duty calls after him as he starts his trek towards the inevitable challenges that's in store for him today. Pushing past herds of people congregating at the pokémon centers entrance, he breathes in the fresh air of Cerulean that's mixed in with the scent of sea.

It's just about to be dinner time for most of the local population, luckily he'd managed to get his food just an hour before this. This gives him plenty of time to just head to where they're supposed to battle, to have some quiet moments to himself to ponder over just what he'd face against Ash.

He knows of only one pokémon that he'll face; Pikachu.

The electric mouse had not only given him a beat-down he'll not soon forget, but had shown great speed and agility when it comes to battling compared to other starter pokémon when they had just begun. Quick Attack had been used repeatedly to simply just run circles around the confused little Squirtle.

No electricity needed.

Gary shudders as he walks along the outskirts north-east of Cerulean, grass hitting his strides as his thoughts are filled with just how strong that little creature could've gotten after all this time.

If it's anything close to his hard-shelled partners progress they've got a tough battle on their hands. Super-effective against his most hard-hitting team member, it would be up to Mankey to try and match that little rat with speed and agility. Gary's not quite so certain he'll be able to. While his flexibility and stamina are unparalleled by just about anything at their level, it won't work against something that'll just strike him down with ranged attacks.

Not to mention that they've got absolutely zero experiences with handling electric-type moves. He doesn't know how Mankey will respond as his limbs seizes up and cramps as a Thunder Shock connects.

It's all an unknown and he doesn't like it one bit.

Finding his thoughts fleetingly consider the rivers surrounding him as his sneakers yet again connect with the 'Nugget Bridge' as the local population calls it, Gary ponders over the possibility of using the water to his advantage.

Against Pikachu, Wartortle would have the best chance up on land — he knows that well enough. But what about any other pokémon Ash has?

If it's a grass-type, the riverbanks could still be used to dodge and weave any Razor Leafs that are bound to get thrown around if that's the case. Wartortle isn't a slow, stalwart watchtower in the water. He's a colossal, speedy power that'll knock out just about anything that'll try to invade his territory.

If it's another water-type, such as a Tentacool or even Horsea, his bud will win without question should he not get unlucky with poison-type tricks. There's simply not many first-stage evolutions that can stand up to the might of a wartortle without such methods underwater.

Gary feels like he can rule out any psychic-types aswell, considering that Ash probably isn't the most capable guy in the world to attempt and train an Abra—not to mention finding one aswell—but also that it'd be impossible to locate a Drowzee around these parts without travelling further down to Vermillion where they remain hidden amongst the cave systems and thick forests surrounding the sea-port city.

He'll probably get one in the future though. Ash would enjoy having someone to talk to and get help from, to communicate with his fellow teammates. The guy is an oblivious idiot most of the time, but he's not dumb when it comes to training.

Gary knows that. Far too well considering how his old geezer speaks of Delia and the news she's sharing with him. Ash has been training for just as long as he has and this certainly won't be easy. Even if he wouldn't admit it out loud.

Spotting the vaguely familiar open field next to the beautiful riverbank from yesterday, Gary immediately heads over to it without question as they hadn't really agreed to meet up before the battle. Not that Gary would've accepted it either way if it had included Ash.

Misty on the other hand. Well..

A speck of orange dancing at the edge of his vision makes his thoughts stop and his steps halt completely. It's only with brief smile covering his features at the coincidence that he calls out towards the single other person present besides him.

"You're out here early, gym-leader!" Gary hollers over as he hurries his steps along.

Said speck of orange finally moves at his voice, leaning up from having been enjoying her time in the blazing heat of Kanto's summer sun. Shielding her vision, eyes strained to see him she waves her acknowledgment before speaking up. "I had nothing better to do! Besides, my pokémon tend to prefer the natural water around here rather than the swimming pools we have at the gym!"

Arriving next to the gym-leader, Gary can only quirk his brow in response to her words before he snaps his gaze towards the riverbank before them. Maybe he should've expected something along these lines; but nothing could prepare him for _that._

If he hadn't already been intending to drop his backpack down next to her, it would've most-likely slipped out of his grip at the view he has right now. To say he feels intimidated would be an understatement. Gary swallows with minor difficulty as he peers out over the beasts enjoying and roaming the water in front of him.

Tentacruel, Goldeen, Seaking, Magikarp, Golduck, Seadra, Staryu, Starmie and last but _certainly_ not least— _A Gyarados._

"Uh.." Gary starts, his thoughts bordering on being completely broken by the intimidating line-up that's just casually minding their own business. That is, until several of them whirl around at his voice, keen eyes trained by an expert immediately sizing up the lone human that had dared approach their trainer. Golduck silently staring up at him with an eerily blue glow to its gaze, the large head of Gyarados turning just a fraction towards where he's at.

It's not with voluntary movements that he takes a careful step backwards. "Did I— uh, did I arrive at a bad time, or..?"

Maybe he'll have to count out using the water to his advantage if these beasts are occupying it.

"Huh?" Misty peers up at him through shielded eyes and it's only after a few seconds that she finally catches onto his expression. Mostly due to the fact that his eyes are trained on the creatures staring him down. Snorting as she catches on in a fashion not many would consider lady-like, the gym-leader of Cerulean calls out to her own pokémon covering the small riverbank.

"Knock it off you guys! He's here to battle but not with us so you can drop the whole intimidation act!" It's a light tone, bordering more on humorous than commanding, but it looks to get most of the roster to settle down and enjoy the water again.

As several eyes, some similar enough to remind him of a certain pair of beady black pupils that belongs the large titan he'd faced in Mt. Moon, turn away from him— Gary finds his estimation of Ash rise just a few small notches.

If he'd faced any of these, even if it's just the Goldeen and Staryu as her novice team, Gary wouldn't even be shocked that his own rival had lost more than once. Even with the type advantage of Pikachu. If they're trained by the same trainer that had brought up these creatures to their current state, Gary can't help but wonder just how hard this gym will be to beat.

"Do they always do that?" Gary mutters with some apprehension still lingering in his voice. Trying to steer clear of the Golduck that's still staring him down. It would seem they're just as overprotective as his own turtle with more than enough power to back up their attitude.

"Not too often, usually just to scare trainers before battles," she informs him, voice as innocent as it could be. Gary wouldn't put it past her to try something like that, he's sure being a gym-leader could use some fun every once in a while.

As long as it isn't directed at him he's got nothing to complain about. So Gary nods along wordlessly with her statement, taking a seat upon the soft grass next to her before staring out at the pokémon frolicking in their natural habitat aswell.

It's a curious thing to see such large beasts up front that aren't his grandpas experienced team of giants. He's aware that stronger trainers than his gramps probably exist, especially now that he's been retired for a long time. He's seen the Champion of the Indigo League defend his title on television numerous times against trainers that has faced down any type of beasts you could throw at them and still prevail.

Even so, Gary knows that his old geezers machamp would probably sweep the Cerulean gym-leaders team without a second thought even in this day and age. That colossal monster of a fighting-type still trains hard despite retirement, and could easily go toe-to-toe with todays elite.

That reassuring thought does nothing to actually take away from the otherworldly look into said gym-leaders standard everyday life. The life of a strong trainer, respected by an entire city and region as one of the lead talents amongst trainers. It feels weird, foreign to someone like him.

His fingertips immediately search out the first ball notched upon his trainer belt, unhooking it from its secure place to hold up in front of the other trainer. "Mind if I release Wartortle?"

As if the mention of the turtle brings up the promises he'd made yesterday, Misty offers up a bright smile at his suggestion. Gesturing to the water in front of them. "Go for it, they don't bite."

Gary's not too sure about that if the yawning Gyarados is any indication. Those teeth could tear apart just about anything at the slightest provocation. But he shrugs his shoulders, it wouldn't be in a gym-leaders nature to have unruly companions.

Pressing the release mechanism of his buds pokéball, said Wartortle materializes right in front of them with a battle-ready look of concentration. That is, until he looks around in brief puzzlement at their current location.

Gary sighs, remembering how he'd told the turtle to be ready for battle immediately on exit. "We're not battling yet, bud. Change of plans, you can rest up before Ash gets here."

Wartortle rumbles a light affirmative at his trainers words, stretching his neck to peer around the area he'd been released in only to spot the trainer next to his own. It's with a brief, barely there nod of acknowledgment that his bud greets the Cerulean gym-leader.

Misty offers up a brief wave in return before turning her head to Gary. "Isn't he pretty, uhm, big for a Wartortle his age? I know you told me he was about three months old, but even I know they're not so supposed to be this large until they're atleast a year old," she murmurs, bright-green locked onto the turtle that has finally decided to notice the large selection of water-type monsters occupying yesterdays playground.

Looking onwards, eyes equally as interested in the scene before them, Gary shrugs his shoulders lazily. "It wouldn't surprise me if gramps decided to make sure I got the best quality Squirtle he could get his hands on before I got old enough to be a trainer. I haven't really thought about it to be honest with you,"

"He always knew I wanted one though," Gary murmurs to add as a second thought.

He hasn't really looked that far into just what his gramps had done for him, but he wouldn't put it past him. Wartortle was a prime example of his species, a paragon of it considering just how few of them there are. It's just that Gary hasn't really paid attention to anything like that. Pokémon breeding doesn't interest him in the slighest, why try to force out a creature that has the best base foundations for becoming strong instead of just training what you have to achieve your goal?

It wouldn't really have made a difference to their end-goal if Wartortle had been the runt of the litter or the prime example he was. He would've pushed him all the same to become the power-house he knows the turtle can be. It all rests on the trainers ability, and that's how it's supposed to be.

Misty quirks her orange brow up at him before turning her sight back down to the crystal clear water below them. "I think he'll do fine, that Aqua Jet yesterday was surprisingly clean for being a first-time user."

Wartortle looks to be on-edge as he hovers near the water, some of Misty's team peering at him curiously and some with disinterest. Carefully waddling closer, the hard-shelled turtle suddenly kicks off into the river with quick acceleration to simply just propell himself past any fear he could've had trying to enter the area of such beasts.

None of the larger water-types pay the intrusion any mind, each and everyone of them looking to be either too tired to bother or simply not finding him to be a challenge worthy their time during their own down-time.

"We had been training for only a few hours actually, so that means alot this early on." Gary doesn't see any reason not to let it slip, he's pretty proud over such an accomplishment on his turtles part.

It would seem the gym-leader agrees if the widening of her eyes are any indication. "Just a few hours?" she echoes.

He nods once. "Both of my partners are quick learners, Mankey's getting the hang of his own moves pretty fast aswell. I think we'll only need a week to have both of them ready for battling," Gary responds easily with a shrug of his shoulders. Catching onto Misty's bright-green with a brief, barely there smug smile.

She just shakes her head at his attitude, a brief flicker of her own smile present on her features. "I didn't see much of your Mankey yesterday now that I think about it," Misty starts as she leans back against the grass to simply just soak up the sun, "why haven't you released him here?"

At that Gary can only laugh. Mankey would try and fight just about anything that moves if given the chance, and having such a wide roster of potential enemies right in front of him would just make him a pest to keep track of and steer clear from getting squashed.

"I don't think you'd like to see Mankey try to battle Gyarados here," Gary keeps it at that, lips thin in a painful grimace at the mere thought of such a battle.

"He's that bad?"

"Worse."

Misty peers up at him through her shielded vision, brow quirked in an amused fashion as if waiting for an elaboration. Sadly, they both turn their heads at the familiar steps of someone approaching them.

Jogging up to them, looking to be exhausted due to probably having ran all the way here, Ash pushes his cap up with a large grin. "Sorry I'm late!"

Grumbling beneath his breath, Gary just nods his head at the other trainer from Pallet. "Here I thought you'd gotten scared and ran off, can't say I'm disappointed though."

Ash just rolls his eyes at him, trying to catch his breath. "Ready to battle?" his former friend starts, yet he backtracks with a sheepish look before peering around Gary, "Hey Misty!"

Said gym-leader waves back in greeting before speaking up, "Just line up on the open field behind us, it'll be large enough for a battle between you two."

"Alright, let's get this over with I guess," Gary drawls, scratching away at his brown locks as he rises from his comfortable position. Peering down towards the pond, the young trainer can spot his turtle quietly conversing with the Staryu present.

Rolling his eyes, Gary brings his fingers up into a whistle. "Hey bud! We've got a battle to win, so you better get up here!"

Wartortle perks up at the whistle, turning towards his trainer before offering up a grim nod. Slowly starting to make his way back to shore, the turtle lumbers up on land next to his trainer.

"You really think you'll win, Gary?" Ash asks, looking just abit surprised at his confidence. Perhaps that first victory had gone to his head.

Turning his dark-brown gaze onto his rival, Gary Oak finds no reason to be scared or nervous. "Nah," he starts easily, trekking up the light hill where they've been sat for the past fifteen minutes and up to the open field before them.

"I know I will," the Oak heir responds with determination as Wartortle lines up next to him.

Ash frowns as he lines up on his own side of the field. Carefully settling down his backpack next to him, he kneels down only to zip it open. Gary overhears a light laugh from the other trainer before a pair of yellow ears pop up from the pack.

Sleepily crawling out of Ash's backpack, Pikachu makes its appearance. And it's only after having a good moment of looking around itself in a sleepy manner that it finally seems to catch onto just where it is and who it's going to battle.

The rat starts grinning at him and Gary feels his fingertips itch for Mankey already.

Misty walks into his field of vision, carefully looking over to the both of them before stepping up to the middle of the battlefield. "I don't want any attempts at serious injuries here, we're a long walk off from the pokémon center. Other than that, you're all set to go."

"Ash, you're the challenger so you're going to have to release first," Misty speaks up, looking between them both before reaffirming her words, "Understood?"

"Crystal clear." "Yup."

A pleasant smile in place, Misty treks back towards her side of the battlefield. Golduck seemingly having chosen to accompany her to the sidelines instead of enjoying the water with its teammates, a dull blue glow to its eyes.

"Ready?" They both nod, as tense as they could ever be.

" **Begin!** "

* * *

"Pidgeotto, I choose you!" Ash shouts as he throws a red and white sphere up into the air.

Gary barely has any time to shield his eyes from the bright light that dominates the field. It's only when a loud piercing shriek that makes his head immediately wish to cower that he finally looks up.

With a wing-span that would put most other Pidgeotto to shame, Ash's own bird swerves gracefully in the air before landing down in front of its trainer. Keen, sharp eyes draw themselves to him. Unblinking and unnerving, it reminds him far too much of the Pidgeot that had almost torn his scalp off in its hasteful exit.

Reaching up, fingers tussling with his brown locks that has just about grown back enough to not look stupid, Gary finds himself unsure about his next course of action.

Mankey wouldn't be able to reliably take out such an agile aerial opponent, atleast not yet. The Machoke that had swiftly neutralized the large bird had been leagues ahead of them, even now. His own fighting-type couldn't possibly manage a feat like tearing the bird out of the sky through brute strength.

Allowing his gaze to fall shut, Gary simply breathes out— he knows what needs to be done to get their revenge. He's known ever since he saw that awful pidgeotto materialize. He only regrets not pushing his bud towards something like Icebeam now.

"Alright, you've got this one—right bud?" Gary doesn't need to look down to see the immense satisfaction on his turtles features, he can hear it perfectly through his affirmative grunt.

Lumbering onwards, Wartortle lines up in front of his trainer. There's no stumbling steps, no joyous smile like his Squirtle would've had. The turtle before him now is self-assured, a large grin of a tusk-filled maw present that he's finally able to have target practice with something that isn't his own rival.

It's quiet for a few moments, each trainer and their combatant tense and awaiting the other to make the first mov—

"Watergun—move forward!" Gary cuts through the silence with his barked order, pointing vigoriously straight at the flying-type that has yet to leave ground.

Both pokémon start at his voice, Pidegotto kicking off the ground with soil spraying everywhere as it flies high up in the sky. The blazing heat of Kanto's summer amplified as his dark-brown eyes follow the large flying-type, rays of sunlight dancing as they become blocked by the massive shadow manouvering with skill across its own domain.

Wartortle starts his slow trek forward with a guttural roar, each steady step punctuated by waterguns shot rapid-fire up at the airborne target as the turtle runs further into the battlefield. It's the only weapon they've come to perfect and they're going to make full use out of it against an opponent like this.

Molding the sky to its form as it dashes from edge to edge of their battlefield, the flying-type screeches in defiance as the first wave of waterguns gets left behind it. It's speed superior to any projectile they could've launched this early on. For such a large bird, Ash has atleast managed to bring out some of the more useful traits of the Pidgeot evolutionary line.

A frown on his normally calm features, Gary looks over to his rival across the field.

Triumphant, Ash's smile on the other edge of their battle speaking volumes of just how he feels about his bird skillfully executing straight dodges with little to no effort.

Said frown molds into a wild grin as his gaze moves back up to the soaring flying-type. It wouldn't sit right with him if he didn't offer Ash everything they've got from the very beginning and forcing him to wait for the real deal.

"Cut the supressive fire," Gary calmly speaks up, "predict it."

Squawking in surprise, Pidgeotto looks just about as panicked as it could possibly be when spears of pressurized water zooms right past its neck at staggering speeds. His bud keeps up with the large birds pace, turning and twisting his neck as his eyes traces Pidgeotto's aerial movements with some difficulty. With another sharp intake of his breath, Wartortle begins to lay waste to the sky with several expertly shot waterguns.

"Dodge to your left, he's going to catch up if you just fly straight!" Ash calls out to his own pokémon, mindful of the consequences or perhaps realizing just how easily anyone would be able to guess Pidgeotto's flight paths with such predictable straight lines.

It's with a sloppy swerve to its left, wing tucked flat against itself that it starts to high-tail it through the air. Evasive manouvers executed with sudden fear and panic as each projectile lags behind just shy of a half-second to actually connecting with the large bird.

"Lead your shots, it's got no chance to hurt you!" Gary adds as helpful advice over the hail his bud covers the field with. Wartortle stumbling forward in his attempts to keep his vision clear of the large bird that's soaring across and around him.

Leading your shots was essential, watergun was a still a projectile afterall. Shooting straight at the target would get you nowhere as the water-type move would hit air seconds after Pidgeotto had been there. His projectiles are faster than they ever could've been as a Squirtle though, pressurized liquid zooming past each flap of the great Pidgeotto's wings.

But Gary can't help but wonder why Ash hasn't decided to try and counter-attack yet.

It's even making himself nervous with how close each single drop of water looks to be on the verge of hitting the mobile flying-type now that they've gone serious this early on in the battle before it steers itself away from each impact in an impressive show of flexibility.

Ash, even with his lacking insight and forgetful nature, is a force to be reckoned with if this flying-type is anything to go by. Just what is he waiting for?

They've got the advantage with power and range, but Gary finds his expression grim as he knows this isn't about to continue for long. Trying to steer clear of Wartortle will only result in a high-speed chase that'll eat up their opponents stamina long before said turtle runs out of fuel.

His vision flicks towards the focused visage of Ash, staring straight up at his own pokémon with determination practically written across his features.

Pidgeotto squawks and Gary refocuses on the task at hand as a frown plucks at his features. Masterfully dodging and weaving without any command from its trainer, Pidgeotto throws a few weak Sand Attacks as it drops down to the ground in its desperate dance for survival.

The sand hits nothing of importance, just covering his Wartortles feet at the range the large bird had been forced to attack from. And as Gary had expected, Pidgeotto doesn't last long against such a storm of waterguns flying after it.

Slipping up for a mere second in its own guessing game with Wartortles numerous projectiles as he soars upwards after Sand Attack, trying to steer clear of the barrage on its left his turtle fakes the bird out on his own accord with several expertly placed shots above the birds head.

A high-powered watergun clipping it in its right talon as it attempts to fly up higher—making it stagger and screech as its height drops marginally at feeling just a fraction of the power behind his buds watergun. With its balance thrown off for a brief moment Ash makes his move to swiftly cover up the mistake with his own order.

"Keep dodging to your right—turn around and use Twister as close as you can!" Ash's voice cuts through Gary Oak's own concentration instantly, "Make sure he can't move as he wants!"

A frown marrs his features as he finally overhears Ash's counter-attack, mind trying to root out just what his rival has in store for them n— _Wait, Ash has managed to teach his pokémon a dragon-type move?!_

Gary flicks his wide eyes up at the large bird that screeches an affirmative. Having managed to recover from the mere graze surprisingly fast, it gracefully swoops down low with renewed determination.

Waterguns shot overhead, endless and merciless in their attempts to connect with Pidgeotto, it manages to dodge each and everyone of them with a roll to its right with wings tucked flat or swooping even lower. It looks to be speeding right towards Wartortle with a hateful shriek.

"Keep up, it'll need to stop eventually!" Gary calls to his partner, recieving no affirmative other than an increased rate of fire from his stationary turtle.

"Use it now!" Ash shouts over to his own pokémon as it nears, Pidgeotto coming to a violent halt in its acceleration down towards Wartortle to match up his command.

Flapping its wings with a terrifying power as it comes to a full stop, wind picks up to an incredible rate around the turtle as both trainers and referee finds themselves forced to shield their eyes. The aerial power of Pidgeotto unleashes, it's manipulation over the wind impressive as it swiftly swirls up into a tornado surrounding Wartortle that halts his waterguns immediately.

Leaves, soil and branches are picked up by the frightening example of a dragon-type move they've never had experience with before. Wartortle, while bulky and managing to stay grounded through the torment of Twister, looks to be on the verge of actually getting picked up by the disgustingly strong wind. His struggling roars barely audible over the whistling tornado carrying with it the strength of the elusive dragon-types.

Gary finds his heart feeling like it's up in his throat, pulse hammering against his ears as he realizes just how hard of a battle this will be. They've never had to deal with a trainers flying-type of this caliber before, they're out of their element and having never felt such a stong Twister attack before or _ever_ for that matter—it's a miracle in and of itself that Wartortle hasn't given in yet and been flung far and away.

Gaze locked onto the turtle grappling with the grass and roots below to keep himself from flying off, Gary finds himself desperate. "Hold on, bud!"

He won't for much longer, Gary knows that far too well. Stress and experience makes his mind push for any idea that could even the playing field, any little tid-bit that could give them an edge.

Images of an Onix, roaring as it springs up from dirtied soil in a violent spray of pebbles amongst the dimly lit environment of the Pewter City gym, plays on repeat inside his head over and over. Eyes stuck upon the struggling form of Wartortle, desperately clinging to the ground through the pain of Twister, Gary finds his throat working before he's even realized it.

"Withdraw!" he roars, fists clenched at his side, "Fly away with the Twister, Wartortle!"

And his turtle heeds his call without question. Releasing his grip upon the ground and grass below, Wartortle withdraws into his shell with haste as he swirls up into the tornado. It's eerily similar to how Onix had managed to fling up said turtle when he'd been a small Squirtle, flying across the illuminated skylights of the gym with nowhere to land without pain.

They've learned since then.

It's with Wartortle being launched high up in the air, flying high above the rest of them as if he'd been the flying-type instead, that Gary calls out his roaring command at the same time as Ash.

"Pidgeotto, chase after him with Quick At—!"

" **Watergun below you!** " Gary roars harshly over the whistling wind, his hard-shelled partner soaring across the free blue sky of Cerulean.

Pidgeotto's surrounding air starts swirling around it, encasing itself with Quick Attack's speed-enhancing aura the large bird starts shining a bright white as it steers swiftly up and towards the shell blocking out the suns rays. Keen eyes are focused upon its target, yet it's with horror that they widen as limbs swiftly deposits into their slots as if Wartortle had never even left the ground.

Focused, calm dark-purple latches onto the earth-brown confusion of Pidgeotto for a brief split second. Taking breath, neck rearing itself backwards—Wartortle lets loose the most terrifying blast of Watergun to date.

With its Quick-Attack empowered speed crackling across the sky straight up towards the flying shell, the large flying-type has nowhere to go but crashing down. The watergun connects squarely on the feathery plummage of its chest, violently smacking its elemental greeting into the core of Pidgeotto.

Gary's determined gaze finds itself filled to the brim of the sight before him. The large bird suddenly getting blown completely backwards in a whiplash-like effect down towards the harsh ground below in a crushing, vicious fashion.

"Pidgeotto!" Ash calls after it with clear fear and concern in his voice.

Its impact rocks their balance, dust kicked up and shrouding the birds would-be crater that must've formed at its merciless connection with the ground yet Gary finds himself not caring one bit—they're going to finish this in one swift go.

If Ash has managed to keep dragon-type moves up his sleeves there's no way he's about to give them another shot at surprising them.

He's been out-witted, outplayed several times already by numerous different trainers. Gary can tolerate it, even learn from it—but not from Ash.

"Strike it down with a Headbutt from the sky!" Gary roars with fervor up at his Wartortle swiftly picking up speed as he falls down from the heavens above.

Wartortles naturally hard dome could handle the impact. It would drain them, perhaps even making their chances of beating the flying-type obsolete should it fail, but battles like these are about taking risks. Battles against Ash, to win against Ash—requires risks.

They just need to tackle them head-on without fear. Quite literally.

Crashing down, thundering across the sky that used to be Pidgeotto's own home and sanctuary, Wartortles dome takes on a lethal shine of empowered energy. With his buds evolution he'd not only been granted increased mobility and power, but also bulk. Said bulk, his weight several times what it had been as a Squirtle, has become their most lethal weapon now.

The kinetic force of his hard-shelled partner, even with something like a mere Headbutt attack, has been amplified by his newly found stature from evolution. Raining down from the sky on top of it? Gary can't even imagine just how hard it'll hit.

He doesn't have to imagine it much longer, his dark-brown gaze latching onto the falling turtle before he disappears down into dusty mirage shrouding everyones eyes from the Pidgeotto that had been struck out of its natural habitat.

"Gust away the dust and slap it back with a Wing Attack!" Ash shouts fervently across the battlefield and Gary finds his veins freeze at the sudden mixture of fear and insecurity that courses through them.

 _I've got no chance to counte—!_

Pidgeotto shrieks and it's with sudden explosive wind picking up that the dust gets sent flying out towards each respective trainer. Blinding them both effectively yet doing nothing to cancel out the horrifying sound that follows. Gary can see how a bright light shines for a split second before dust overtakes his vision.

With a crash that breaks every tranquil notion the local Cerulean pokémon population could've ever had this day, Wartortle connecting with Pidgeotto makes its mark known with waves of tremors shaking Gary to his very core. The following sound greeting their ears like a tidal of pain, roars of guttural proportions thrown out at random as several shrieks accompany it afterwards.

The ground quakes beneath his feet, legs feeling almost weak with how his thoughts are desperately trying to discern whatever sound he can overhear through the dusty cloud holding his hopes of victory hostage.

Slowly, the dust that had been kicked up by his hard-shelled partners impact lays itself down to rest. Gary catches his first glimpse of his own combatant, of his hard-shelled partner that had been desperately heeding his wishes to end this fight before it could turn even more sour.

Standing strong and breathing heavily with several scratches and bruises covering his trembling frame, Wartortle's fluffy ears are covered in dirt and grime. Twitching, perhaps irritated by said earthly substances, he looks to be on the edge of his stamina. Running on fumes as he wheezes out in his deep grumbling voice.

Pidgeotto rises before them both, its twitching and violently trembling frame snapping its raptor-like head up at the two of them. Keen eyes now portraying exhaustion, pain and most of all sheer will. There's a steel-like quality to its sharp gaze that hadn't been there before this battle and Gary finds himself instantly wary.

It looks like it'll do whatever it takes to crush Wartortle.

Pidgeotto hops forward with a stumbling grip, the talon that had been struck by his buds watergun making its normal balance unsteady. Attempting to flap its wings, it screeches in defiance yet never looks to get swept up into the sky gracefully like it had before the crushing impact.

Gary finds his lips moving into a familiar wild grin. They've managed to atleast hinder its most potent offense and defense, making it a clear and easy target. Pidgeotto hovers, barely grasping at the aerial superiority it had displayed.

Ash cuts through everyones focus with a quick command. "Don't even try to fly, Pidgeotto! Throw him back with Twister and don't let up!"

Gary isn't one to find himself one-upped by his own rival so he responds in kind without delay. "It's not getting up in the sky anymore, you've got a clear shot—run forward with a Watergun!"

Both pokémon spring into action and it's with Pidgeotto screeching that wings pulses life into the ordered Twister. His bud responds in kind as he draws himself up to stand strong, shooting off a single watergun before he stumbles forward and almost into close quarters with the large bird.

Twister starts to pick up its momentum with the exhausted flying-types efforts, barely even flinching as Wartortle's Watergun looks to be dispersed almost completely inside the dragon-type move.

"It's not working, charge forward with Headbutt!" Gary calls over instead. He knows this is yet another gamble, there's no telling just how badly Pidgeotto's abilities has been hindered by the impact. His bud could possibly even get thrown away by the current Twister just like the previous one, but..

There's no other choice if Waterguns aren't an option any longer.

Wartortle charges forward, a dull roar thrown out to accompany it as he runs straight into the Twister attack blocking the two combatants from eachother. Pidgeotto barely hovers over the ground with its attempts to fuel Twister further, they're within striking distance and it's only a matter of will left to stop them from powering through.

Gary watches his buds reliable hard-shelled back disappear into the torment of Twister before the whole tornado starts shining a bright white.

Roaring violently as if he'd still been inside Mt. Moon fighting the large titan, Gary overhears Wartortles resounding _smack_ before the light evaporates in an instant as if it'd never been brought to life to begin with.

Twister starts to lose its terrifying power, crumbling down without its master to fuel it further. All that's left when everything clears and calms down is a turtle breathing heavily along with a large flying-type that looks to be on the verge of collapsing where it stands upon unsteady talons.

It's over. Gary knows it is, a mere breeze would knock over the bird now in its current state.

"Pidgeotto! Come on, you can still use one last Wing Attack!" But it would seem Ash has other plans as he calls out his last-ditch effort to injure Wartortle further.

"Duck and Tail Whip!" Gary orders without stress, knowing just how slow such an injured pokémon will be.

Pidgeotto takes one steady step forward before its right uninjured wing starts empowering itself with the natural energy all of these creatures wield. Swinging it outwards, as if attempting to strike his bud right where his shell meets his head, Wartortle swiftly withdraws his head into his shell and lets the attack and momentum carry Pidgeotto forward to him.

Stumbling forward at having managed to use up all of its remaining stamina into that single move, Wartortle sweeps his sturdy fur-bedecked tail across the dirtied and uneven ground. Clipping Pidgeotto in its talons, the large bird falls face-first into said dirt without even resisting.

Crossing his arms, Gary calls out the final command for this battle. "Watergun."

Depositing his head back out of his shell, Wartortle stares down the large bird with his own gaze made of steel-quality. Rearing his neck backwards, taking aim upon the downed flying-type—he shoots one last time upon the back of Pidgeotto's head. Effectively ending this battle as creature before him barely lets out a whine of pain before succumbing to unconciousness.

"Pidgeotto is unable to battle, Wartortle wins!" Misty announces and it's with his own dark-brown gaze travelling to their forgotten referee that he spots her entire roster having made its way up the light hill to observe their battle.

Gary allows a brief triumphant smile to show as he turns his head back to congratulate his turtle. "Glad to know you've still got it, bud."

His hard-shelled partners indigo-blue exhausted frame turns back to him and it's with dark-purple staring up at his trainer that Wartortle snorts with a large grin of his tusk-filled maw.

"Pidgeotto, you've earned your rest," Ash speaks up softly from his side of the battlefield, returning his flying-type into its pokéball with a ponderous expression.

"I didn't think Pidgeotto would lose today," his rival speaks up, showcasing his own thoughts prior to their ongoing battle. As it is, Gary feels quite sure now that Ash had managed to underestimate him based on their first battle.

Getting crushed probably wasn't within his realm of expectations today. "But I have complete faith that Pikachu will clean up, right buddy?"

Gary finds his lips almost sneering upwards in disgust as the small rodent confidently moves up to stand infront of his trainer. Pikachu nods with determination as small fiery sparks looks to fly from his red cheeks, crackling with untapped electric power.

Wartortle lumbering over to him brings him out of his hateful stare, and Gary finds himself prepared to look down to spot exhaustion and a will to simply sleep away his pain.

What greets him is dark-purple with rage comparable to his own, confidently staring up into his trainers eyes as if wishing to stay on the field for a few more minutes. "You wanna keep fighting?"

Wartortles offers up a slow, single nod of confirmation. Gary feels a brief frown tug at his features as his eyes trail up to the Pikachu that awaits them. His bud probably wouldn't last more than a minute in his current state versus something that agile and filled with super-effective power.

Equally as injured, however, is an entirely different story altogether. "Tell you what, bud."

"If Pikachu manages to beat our innocent furball, you've got my approval to keep going. Sound good?" Gary flicks his gaze down at the determined turtle, who steals a glance back at the Pikachu that smirks at them with confidence.

Turning his head back up to his trainer, Wartortle nods once before pointing up at his own container notched upon Gary's trainer belt.

Gary only rolls his eyes. "Yes, I know. I'll return you so you won't start feeling all the hits." Grabbing the pokéball in question, the young Oak points it down at his hard-shelled partner before the turtle is sucked into comfortable stasis.

Swiftly notching his turtles container upon his belt, Gary immediately grabs the one next to it. There's no reason to offer up a fancy introduction for this type of fighter. Throwing said red and white sphere up into the air, Mankey materializes in front of him upon the soft grass of the battlefield.

With an ear-piercing screech, furious scarlet turns themselves upon the electric rat without hesitation.

"Hey furball!"

Whirling around to face him with fur sticking up on all ends and trout inhaling with a snort, Gary offers up a cheerful wave in stark contrast to the tempramental fighting-type. "Don't go easy on this one, free reign of all your favorite moves!"

Mankey's eyes widen as it's with an expression filled with jubilant delight that he realizes his trainers approval in full usage of his normally controlled arsenal of disruptive moves.

"Both trainers ready?" Misty's voice cuts through the fun, and both trainers along with their combatants turn to face the already torn and used battlefield.

Four nods answers her call and it looks like she's not wasting any time in allowing this battle to continue.

"Begin!"

* * *

 **If you read this far, thank you! I wanted to try my hand at writing a bigger chapter, let me know if it holds up!**

 **In response to Eevee's review:** Lets start with the first one; Thank you for bringing up the rather tedious repetition of "the Oak heir", I realized that chapter 5 had repeated it around 30-ish times. I've now re-edited it and I believe it's only down to a measily 2 or 3. As for faster progression, I've tried to include as much as I can to progress faster with this chapter. While it could be argued that the pokémon center scenes are meaningless, I feel like they shed some light regarding his thoughts around Onix. I wouldn't expect that many more center scenes here in Cerulean.

Second review: I had planned to use more dialogue now that we've gotten past Mt. Moon, I hope it's a noticable change. Also thank you for your kind words.

Third review: I have no problems with adapting my writing style if its to suit a large majority of those who read. As for Pokémon, I've got some ideas planned. Some revolve around his canon team, some not. Shipping then? I'll be blunt and say I'm horrible at writing romance.

 **In response to Spookdoder's review:** Thank you! I hope this one surpasses it!

 **In response to Shiningheart of ThunderClan's review:** I hope this chapter followed up on that feeling, glad to see you're still reading!


End file.
